Hole in My Chest
by MayMargaret
Summary: A young man is at the lowest point of death, but can a nameless survivor bring him back, and herself back in turn, when the worst happens? Disclaimer; I own neither franchises
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere in a hospital, a girl opened her eyes.

Not a girl locked away in a secret room, right at the back of the bottom most floor for dramatic purposes. No, instead she was on the middle floor, in an abandoned ward. It appears that no one came to take her away once the outbreak began. It seems that the ones who should have loved her enough to do so either scarpered or became what they should have saved her from.

She wasn't locked away, but as the secret to survival of the human race she could have been, she should be. Somewhere…safe.

My eyes felt heavy as I opened them, the oxygen cramming into my lungs until it frazzled my taste buds. It was a sudden awakening, not gradual or dreamlike in the least. Ironically, the sweet flute of morning birdsong fluttered past my ears. But my heart thudded itself in interruption to pry the doors to my consciousness with bleeding nails.

I scanned my surroundings in a darting motion, my head being all that would obey my orders to move. It probably used to be pure white, given away by the random smear of brown next to a missed streak of white. That's when the oder hit me. Iron, rust, toxic, old, dust. Not quite blood, not quite faecal, almost visceral. Just all bad stuff, rolled together to insult the human senses without killing. Or maybe I was alive thanks to the disinfectant.

I look down to my hands, ask them to move, and they move. "Thank god," I breathed, leaning up to prove I hadn't forgotten how to move myself. I felt like id mastered a physics calculation, and kept the solution close to the forefront of my brain. I hopped out of bed, almost jumping back on as my feet slammed on the frozen ice sheet covering the floor, invisible of course. I take another look around, the room seeming a lot smaller now I was standing. I realised the curtains were drawing me into a box. I poked and waved my hand through until I found an opening, and pealed it back to peak. The baron ward was silent, grey and dusty.

…

The pale undead, the restless dead, the walking corpses, the woken, the sleepless, the anonymous…

I sigh as my new game finally draws to its natural and inevitable close.

Oh, the inevitables…

Nah, sounds like a group of superheros rather than the name for the dead surrounding me, shuffling so noticeably that their mother would scorn them for sloppiness. I gaze around my person in an attempt to make myself appear less like the gormless faces, empty gazes with empty vision. It was vaguely annoying that they didn't trip or fall over a fallen brick. Not that id find it funny. Even if I did, I couldn't even smirk.

I sometimes wonder how I would introduce myself, beyond the sophisticated groan I have mastered.

"Hi, my name is Rrrr…..s…."

No, that would not do. If I were to meet one of the living, I don't want to die all over again. I want to appear like ive got more smarts about me.

"Hey, you don't know me. Hell, I don't know me. But just let me have a slice of your brain and I'll be more personable, I swear."

Sometimes I wish I could talk as fast as I could think. I wonder how I'd reply if that girl over there came over, the light of life beaming in her dead, saved in eyes, walking instead of lumbering.

"Hi," I would begin. "R is my name and death is my game."

No, if death was my game that sentence would come out as a series of eloquent murmurs. Maybe ill just forget it.

I was probably a douche bag anyway when I could talk. Yeah, maybe im better this way.

Maybe im better looking this way.

I sure as hell don't have the stress in my life to give me wrinkles.

All I do is eat, shuffle, groan, eat and think. Like an intelligent dog. I think that thinking gives me authority around here. I should walk straighter to assert my authority. I give it a thought, but recall the last time I tried it and disliking the sound the sacs between my vertebrae made, like wet rubber.

The city is unusually busy. By that I mean, considering there are none of the living around to hunt. If that were the case, zombies would be the flies. Maybe that's why its so busy; new recruits.

Why am I here? I glance down at my shirt; no fresh blood. Im glad my memory isn't failing me. I was sure I hadn't killed today. This week infact. I should change that.

I instantly start looking for M, but hes nowhere in sight. I take a chance, scanning for the living among the dead. In all this rust and rot, I couldn't smell them if I tried, and if I did it would most likely be the fresh red around their mouths. I venture out through them, occasionally bumping into the shoulder of an ex office worker with bits of unidentifiable tissue stuck in their hair, and log all the places I cant remember attacking. That's where they'll be, waiting with their firearms brandished, boasting invconvenient accuracy. If anyone thought it would be more plausible that humans are more scared of us, that would be a slight error. The humans were quick, trained, organised, smart. We relied on hunger, sense and the energy from our last feeds. I would say the fear is just about even.

Maybe, from a logical point of view, (hey, logical, logical zombie, ha) one could see why they would be frightened. Our stench, our eerie countenance, our pale faces, our ugly out of date fashion. Maybe it's the question of who we have stuck in our teeth. Maybe it's the fact that with one bite, they could drop dead. Or worse…

Rise to become me.

A huge building come into sight as I slowly plod around a balding skyscraper, and recognise it, but cannot picture the interior.

Maybe…

…

Unfortnately my reason for my stint hospital wasn't urgent enough to have on the table surgery; not a drill, saw, even a scalpel in sight. Not a single think to arm myself with.

That's when I hear it.

An ear shattering, high pitched wail breaks my concentration, and for a while I just stand there. I don't know how long I wait until the echoes leave the building.

_OK, ok, breathe. Breathe…_

I found myself pacing, thinking, and take a quick glance out of the window, so bright was the light that shielded me with an off white glow reflecting off of the thin coating of the curtains. You would hardly believe it came from the sunless sky outside, the clouds looking more like a thick grey gazebo. I look down, not that high off the ground. I could see details, including the very few people, what they wore, the fallen bricks and tiles littering the roads. I noticed that not once did the few people even seem to acknowledge each other. All individual, walking about like they were the last living people in the world.

Wait…

Something tugged at my memory, just in time for my eyes to capture and follow a black head lumbering into the building, disappearing beneath the sheltered entrance.

Oooooh crap. No, no don't come in here! Nothing here!

Now I remembered, what the wails were from, what happened to the city, like all others in the known world. Small nigglings of information hit me, crept up, slapped me in the face and tugged at my memory, not all in order. But I pieced them together.

I just couldn't remember what the hell I was doing here.

I instantly found the bedside cabinet and began dismembering it, until I ended up with a long stick, about the size of a baseball bat. It would do, at least. I hopped back onto the bed to steady my nerves, maybe delay being found for as long as possible, if at all. Then I'd decide what to do.

I hear a clatter down the outer corridor, and my chest feels like its about to burst. My stomach churns uncomfortably, my head floats in adrenaline. I secure my hand around the bludgeoning weapon until I feel on of the edges crushed against the whole of my palm.

The footsteps creep closer, closer, infrequent and clumsy and heavy. I begin to jump at each one, noticing how close each one took whatever was out there.

Then it stops. I wait, and hold my breath. I don't dare to put my feet to the floor, potentially casting shadows. Instead, I wait. I wait for a whole minute.

I hear a low grunt, and then further silence, until I hear more steps. I gently lower myself, delicately placing my feet to the floor.

…

I wait patiently, while the hunger lays at bay. Really, I barely notice it. But a hospital, to myself. Who can resist.

I listen out for any signs of life, and get nothing. I wait in the third floor ward, it looks like there was a horrible accident, or massacre of the dead, brown smears along the curtains of one particular bed. The stench overpowers everything when theres that much.

Huh.

I grunt in vague interest, and shuffle closer. My slow eyes catch a movement below, tiny shadows growing out beneath the white sheets.

Ah.

…

I edge the curtain closer, constantly listening out for anything, any sign of anything. I was sure having a weapon wasn't a good idea in such taught circumstances, but what the hell. Better than having my face eaten off.

Finally, I peak through the hole, and a grey eye appears before mine. My hand clenches around the edge of the curtain, but I back away and slip, taking the curtain with me. The weakened rungs snap and fall onto the zombie's head, not bothering him in any way. Really, he just stands there, watching me.

…

I watched the girl fall back in fear, and im too slow to catch her. My dead, decaying body with no reflexes, my dumb struck school boy awe, could be anything. But I feel ill. I dislike the look in her eyes. The flinch at the frightened whimpers escaping from her full lips, while my decayed ones begin to mumble.

I edge forward, my hand outstretched like some moronic attempt of peace offering. But she takes it the wrong way. She lunges forward, the long stick in her hand pointed straight for me. I feel the scrape against my throat, and my weak feet fail. I fall on my back with her stubbornly holding on to her weapon, following me down.

Well, this is awkward.

Instinct kicks in, and I roll her on her back. She falls off me, and yanks out the stick, which as probably left a gaping hole in my neck. I hold her down by the neck, not quite squeezing the life from her lungs.

Her panicked eyes, angered and spitting venom at me, are too much to bare. I try to keep my eyes on my own hand, concentrating on the kill. Her legs continue to kick, and I find I admire her will for survival.

Just then, I feel something. In my chest, my vast cavity, as inactive and dusty as this building. I must be imagining it.

A drop of thick brown, like paint, drops onto the back of my tensed hand, and im mesmerised as it rolls onto the pale white of her throat, nearly disappearing into the mass of copper waves. An idea strikes.

I don't quite let go of her neck, but let my hand run the ex-blood up her jaw and her face. I then bring the finger to my lips.

"S..shhh..sh."


	2. Chapter 2

I am stunned into silence, frozen gradually as my legs weaken in energy. The hand, neither warm nor cold around my neck, loosens. But I can't run. I think I must be in a state of shock.

The boy backs away, his terrifyingly grey eyes wide with something I can't quite put my finger on. He disappears from my vision, a dangerous thing I'm allowing there. I struggle to sit up, using only my arms as levers, and prop myself up on my elbows.

He looks at me, with eyes that are not quite seeing, just icey cold, like they're painted on closed lids to pretend. He keeps his finger to his lips, so I follow his order. Keep quiet, don't let anything else find you, I'm starving here, I picture him saying. That keeps me from shuffling over to lean on the rails of the bed, next to him. That finger stays in place.

…

Shes frightened of me. At last, I'm the scarier one. I should feel happy about that, or as close to happy as a corpse can be. Perhaps content. Smug? Indifferent. I'm indifferent. But I don't like it, indifferent. Non-committal.

Why am I saving her? I don't know, but she looks as though she's settled on my motives. Keeping a kill to myself, no sharing; she's not a bucket of fried chicken.

"Shh…sh….k…k…e."

That went well.

She frowns at the sounds escaping my mouth, her bottom lip shaking. Her grey eyes never leave mine, invading them as though she thinks there's nothing there to invade. No soul, a soulless corpse slumped before her and therefore wouldn't mind. Hell, she impaled my neck with a stick! Sure sign she could care more.

My mouth seems to be making noises to argue against my inner monologue.

It starts with a popping sound. "S…sa…fe."

Im getting better at this.

…

Am I imagining this? Or am I actually knocked out and dreaming? Is he just wearing an outstanding disguise to blend in? Is he a little bit too committed to the role? Because if so, he should win something. An award, maybe, because I was sure he just spelt out 'safe'. Sure of it. But then I see the neck again, the black hole almost perfectly circular, and begin the vicious circle of disbelief all over again.

I hear that sound again, more distant now, but no less terrifying. It signals that I'm about to be a live meal, a cricket to a pagoda. Tears escape my eyes in a desperate, faithless bid to save myself.

"Please, please, don't hurt me."

He frowns, making his grey eyes more dominant of his features under the shadows of his thick eyebrows, and slowly shakes his head. "K…keep…safe-fe."

An involuntary gasp leaves my lips, and my limp arms loosen around my knees. "W-what?"

He looks looks like he's retching the words from his stomach, and his shaking hand rises to his chest, just below the hole. "S…sa..fe."

…

This is my life now. This is the world. I can impress a girl by making sounds that eventually gather into words. I stand and leave her on the floor to absorb the last few seconds, and gather the curtain in my arms, a slow and clumsy process. I hear shuffling about, and the girl comes into vision to help. I point up to the rail, motioning my plan. "Up…hi..hi…de…"

She wearily takes the curtain from the very edges, and throws it up so it hangs. She adjusts it until its equal both sides, and then widens it to cover the gap. "ok?"

I nod and hum in response, and gently and slowly pull the bed to fill the gap at the bottom. I nod in approval at my own work.

…

He certainly looks like a zombie, smells like flesh. Is that him? Or the oder emanating from whatever he's eaten? Has he just regressed this way as a result of being so isolated among the rest of them? I wonder internally, as the zombie movies I consider have otherwise severely misjudged the real thing. He talks, he thinks. Sure, his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, his feet shuffle. He smells like the brown on the curtains, his clothes are holey and tattered. He's grey, a pale version of the colour of the clouds.

But his eyes aren't quite empty, and his brain hasn't quite stopped functioning just yet. While he moves the bed, however, I pick up the stick and wipe it clean, just in case. I never move my eyes from his person.

…

I waited for her to speak, to make any other sound that wasn't breathing to make the silence more bearable, less awkward. I have been sitting on the floor for this unendurably tense atmosphere for I don't know how long, while she sits on the bed and waits, her feet dangling off the edge. Its amazing how long I've been away from a living person, you never have this neurosis around the unspeakable dead. They just wander, and sometimes its comforting to know that they don't care, they don't see you. One might as well have evolved with the gift of invisibility.

But now, im around someone how has the ability to think as much, as fast, and as deep as I can, but its not unusual for them. Its compulsory, its nature for her.

…

I waited for him to launch his attack for minutes, but after a while I gave up. I wasn't really expecting anything now, since he displayed the human characteristic of innovation. The curtain, I could tell, was more protective than it looked. The smell emanating from him was characteristic of what he was, which I was now certain of his state of being. The smell was so strong, it negated any other smell. That's why I've subconsciously endured the smearing on my neck. Protection, a guise.

I look down on him, his black head trained forward to the opposite curtain, and consider saying something. I don't want to offend him by asking questions to which he might not know the answer; do they remember anything from their past? I had the slight memory of the news broadcasters warning us that they're not really the people they once were; just vessels, animals at their most savage form.

But was that true for this guy? He looked human, and sounded like a severely drunk one. He hadn't once attempted to kill me yet, I didn't even feel that desperation when he had me pinned to the floor.

He didn't strike me as dead as the undead I was used to seeing on film, was that a mistake? Or was it accurate, for anyone but him?

…

A small tap sounds next to me, and I check my periphery to find the girl making her way to the floor next to me. She isn't sitting away, she is directly facing me, intrigue in her countenance.

"I have some questions, not particularly in order of importance."

I frown, and thank the lord for her not talking to me like a toddler, since my speech was as advanced as one. I nod curtly.

"Ok, first off, do you have a name?"

That earlier line popped into my head, but now I was coming up to saying it, I questioned whether my name really began with R. It never felt right, but what did? I simply chose it because the first words remember I heard from anyone were, "Are you-", right when I bit his throat, made him like me. Mine and M's friendship didn't get off to the best of starts. I wonder if his name began with M. Anyway, I always thought it was something weird, like U. But then I can't think of any conventional names beginning with U.

I place my hand on my chest, for no reason at all. "U..U." I draw it in the air with my grey-white finger."

She nods, and smiles in a way that nearly reaches her eyes. "Ok."

Carefully, my fingers guide themselves to her chest, touching at the point of her throat, where mine was punctured. A solemn expression comes to her face, and she nods. "I don't know."


	3. Chapter 3

I turn round so I mimic U's position against the railings of the bed, and fight the tears. I'm might consider being jealous, but I'm not. He has a name, or the beginnings of one, something to be referred to. What did I have?

I feel a set of fingers brush my arm, and I turn my face to him. He's starting up at me, slouching over to get a look. His eyes look like an attempt at sadness. His lips open, move up and down, and his eyes move away in concentration. Pity swells with my chest, and I feel as though im watching a man with a stutter struggle against his own thoughts. Finally, he looks back up, and instead silently reaches for my eyes. I don't realise until his shiny finger pulls out back into my vision that I am indeed crying.

He shakes his head, and whispers in his raspy voice, "Don't…c-cry."

"You should keep talking," I breathe, wiping my tears away. "You're getting better. Could you talk before?"

"N-nev-ver…t-tr-ied."

I can't help but gaze at him in disbelief. His eyes shift beneath my eyes, and he backs away to his original stoic position, his face always turned my way. His chin length black hair falls into his eyes, but it doesn't bother him.

"How do you…do that? Did I dream the zombie apocalypse bit?"

He shakes his head. "N-no. It..Ha-happened. T-to..me." His hand places itself on his chest again.

"But…are there others like you? Who can…talk?"

He shrugs. I prefer that to a blunt 'no'.

…

Why is she looking at me that way? I knew why, "zombies don't talk," and all that. But why isn't she disgusted, visibly, by the fact that she's talking to a corpse? Why isn't she sickened that my rotted teeth cant form words as fast as she can?

Why is she still in this building with me, in this room?

Why am i?

The trivial matter of time fades into awareness, and while I don't give it much thought usually, I find its affecting my otherwise uninterrupted routine of wondering and groaning discernibly at M. I attempt to stand, but the small issue of the girl is affecting me. What do I do with her? I'm guessing you can't expect to kill someone after establishing a rapor with them and not feel a twinge of guilt. I also know I can't leave her here. I don't know, getting out of here could be tricky with all the Boney's on the ground floor. I'd be fine, but a living girl? She stands out anyway, but as a lifer all she needs is blood and a pulse to push it into the tissues, and she's irresistible.

I stand eventually, and her panicked eyes stare up at me. "Where're we going?" I like how she's automatically paired us up, it makes it easier. Still, I feel her life in my hands like a delicate ornament I never want to break. I check the old blood on her neck, and sniff.

"C-cop-py…me."

How I could ever get her to look dead, I don't know. But the Boney's don't notice anything that smells like us. It's the others I worry about.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ichigo! Quit dawdling and pass that tape, for the third and final time!"

I leapt from my seat and flashed the glare at the old man, resisting the temptation to kick him in the face in front of a patient. That patient stared wide eyed and fearful at the doctor, who'd just screamed in his son's ear.

"Get it yourself, its right there!" I retorted violently, stabbing a finger at the role on the arm of the couch on which my father was working. Isshin stood up in a second, and a sharp pain radiated through my head upon impact. "If you wanna train, train. If not, get the hell out and stop forcing my patient to have to look at your face!"

I turned away, and felt the childish petulance and anger flow through me as I crossed my arms, face searing with fire. "if he hasn't fainted at your ugly mug then mine is just fine," I mumbled, and although I knew that both he and the man on the couch heard it, I felt the need to shout it back at him. I pretty much egged him on in my head.

_Go on, say, 'what was that?'_

Only he didn't, and sat back in his seat. "We'll have words in a few seconds. Sir, you're good to go."

The man nodded his shivering bespectacled head, and practically ran from the mad house. Silence ensued, and I knew that this conversation wasn't for any ignorant human resident of Karakura town to be a party to.

Isshin sighed heavily, and stood. "Just because you've lost your powers, doesn't mean that you have to be an ass around my patients." His gruff voice was unusually serious. It reminded me of the time he taught me in the precipice the technique that would rid me of my powers. Part of me resented him, and part of me knew that I should be grateful to be a normal kid again. The other fractured parts had ambiguous emotions. I maintained my eye contact with the plant pot on the windowsill, a 90 degree angle from my father's eyes. I held them open until they felt sore, and I blinked.

"I feel useless like this."

Ever the stern father figure, he removed his coat to signal that his working day was over. There would be more to treat tomorrow, and now he needed to cut off from that world. He flashed from sight, and I sat back down. This was one of the times I needed Rukia to appear, for that door to appear and open and reveal her figure in the glowing light. It had been months since that dwarf dematerialised from sight, and I'd almost allowed myself to think she'd get Urahara to knock her up a fake body. It was ridiculous for her to think it was too dangerous for the shinigami. In fact, we needed them. It was even more ridiculous for them to be them, and not 'us'.

Allowing my head to lollop back on to the back of the sofa, I closed my eyes, and forced myself into the memory of the old days, not yet 17 months ago, when it would be me the others would rely on for saving them, and not me on them. Now, we had what the movies called zombies, or whatever they were. Lifeless, living dead, The Pales….no, sounded like a pop group.

But Zombies didn't seem to fit them. Not because they didn't match the convention. They did, but, there was something else. The timing, for example. Within 2 weeks of defeating Aizen, they began popping up. At first, there were only a few, people who'd probably died from the reitsu, or the blasts from above.

Second, was that I'd seen one of them, and recognised him. I'd recognised him as one of the Espada, Starrk? Probably. But id been too much in shock to realise until arriving home, just to think.

His appearance was really what seemed to make matters worse to me; from then on, their numbers increased, until we came to be holed up in Ishida's father's hospital. Home from home, but it lacked the spirit of my old room we'd have meetings in, the kitchen Yuzu used to cook in, and Karin…

Poor Karin.

Her screams still filled my ears at night, that voice always so sardonic, and yet it seemed to grow up overnight to one with rightful sarcasm. She'd seen it all. My only comforting thought was that I might find her one day, if ever I were to return to the Soul Society. She'd make a pretty badass soul reaper.

I sighed a heavy sigh, too heavy for my 17 year old voice, and threw my legs back in to stand. Grabbing my coat and baseball bat next to the couch, I pulled apart the formally automatic doors that would always find a way of recoiling again. "I'm going out!" I called, and my voice reverberated back to me. Id never figured out why that seemed like such a lonely sound, but it was.

…

I'd never made the journey from Mr Ishida's hospital to the shop, but it sure gave me new sights of what was left of Karakura town. Every store was empty, looted and now lost of its potential goods. Windows smashed for whatever reason, knocked over trash cans and trash strewn out all over the roads. Must have been the panic of being vulnerable in such a built up area.

I avoided giving a glance at the abandoned school beyond the gates, and shortly found my way to the shop. It was one small advantage of being acquainted with shinigami; they were very, very difficult to kill. Sure as hell not to be finished off by something long dead.

"Urahara," I said quietly, my voice deep and grave. The man was, unpredictably and yet not surprisingly sat on the roof of the shop, fully intact and protected. He wore the same clogs, the same robe, the same hat, shielding in the same way the eyes beneath, hidden behind the familiar hand fan. He was crouched in a way that looked unsecure on the slanted surface, but he didn't falter. I felt expected.

"Long time no see, Ichigo." I could detect the small amount of humour usually within his voice. It suddenly felt like only a week since I'd seen him last, not months.

I shifted uncomfortably beneath the stare I was sure was on me, looking away. "Yeah. I guess it has."

"You've grown, am I wrong?"

"It's only natural, it's what happens at certain ages, old man."

A small breeze flew by, and I looked up slightly. I noticed something strange about the floor. The rocks, they seemed to be forming a circle of shadows. A perfect circle.

"That's not what I meant." A sharp _whoosh_ followed, and the next I knew I was on the floor. A sharp pain grew over every part of my face, and I opened my eyes fast and wide to the bottom of a clog.

"HEY! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!"

Urahara was now fully visible, missing the hand fan, and he slowly lowered his leg as I helped myself back up. As I felt my nose begin to trickle, I noticed his grim smile. "I'm not sure I'm the old man of us now, Ichigo. You've abandoned your training when you most need it."

"I didn't expect a foot to the face!"

"But you should!" he announced enthusiastically, "You should expect everything around you to attack you at any moment! You are useless on your own in this state, even with that," he motioned to the baseball bat, discarded next to the indent in the ground I'd left. I felt the anger become more stubborn than natural, simply out of principle. I knew he was right, but right now I had a busted nose and he was to blame.

"You bastard," I growled, but I didn't dare attack.

He lowered his hat further over his eyes, until only his grin was concealed. "You've finally learned to admit you're wrong, Ichigo. I guess that's a good thing. Come inside, ill get Tessai."

He spun with enviable speed, his ash blond hair waving behind. I thought as I followed that right now, I felt like I was the change within a completely familiar situation. It was only apparent now, I'd lost hope. I'd weakened, and they'd all found a way to survive without me. I'd weakened because they had.

I looked up, and Urahara had disappeared within the shop, suspiciously fully stocked. A tall figure stood in the dark hall in the corner, the only light on him glinting on his glances. "Mr Kurosaki," his gruff voice observed. That was when I noticed the tray. "Please, let me fix that for you."

I followed him into the familiar room, and in my head I saw visions of Uryu, Chad, Orihime and Rukia sat around the table, listening and discussing over coffee. Tessai motioned to one of the seats, and I followed suit as he did. I panicked as his huge hands headed towards my face, and I knew what would happen next. "This wont hurt, Ichigo," his neutral voice assured, but I knew this man was not to be trusted. Urahara had explained once before the fiasco with the out of date medicine.

…

A wave of sickness hit me, and my eyes drifted open. Déjà vu followed, and I yelled straight into Tessai's face, inches from mine in disinterested concern. He didn't flinch, and when I stopped screaming, he spoke. "He's awake."

As my pulse slowed down, I realised I was lying on my back, and sat up, rubbing my head. "What happened?"

"You fainted, the very essence of a 40's actress," Urahara answered from the doorway, just behind. I could tell he was stifling a laugh.

"Ugh, just let it out and get it over with." My face was burning. I truly was pathetic. I barely faltered when a yell of laughter ensued, and even Tessai gave a couple of chuckles. I was suddenly swallowed up by the familiar bizarreness of Urahara's shop and his make shift family, and that I didn't want to be this anymore.

As the laughter died down minutes later, I realised that two other voices had joined in. Jinta, significantly grown, and Ururu, her meek expression red and somehow still sad, even with laughter. She pitied me, and that made my resolve solid. I stood, steady and determined, and turned to the former 12th division captain. He was a genius, capable of making anything happen.

"I want you to help me become a soul reaper again."

I expected at least hesitation, but then again, I knew this man enough to not expect anything. I knew him enough to know that I would never be able to predict him. Straight away he sobered, and held out a small black object with a button. He pressed it, an arrogant smile painting itself on his face. The floor parted, and I moved with it.

"Its about time, Ichigo. We've been counting on you to return and acknowledge my genius." He began his descent down the steps formed beneath the room, and I followed. "I knew there would be two possible reasons for your inevitable visit; one, you would seek information on the creatures that have appeared, and two; you wanted your powers back. I have prepared for both."

The vast desert-like training ground felt like a second home, but that might have been the knowledge that soon I would be strong again, and useful again. I felt sick still, but with anticipation. The adrenaline pumping within me was as strong as before, and I could almost feel alive again. Finally, we were at the bottom, and the sand beneath my shoes confirmed that this wasn't a dream.

"So, how is this going to happen? Is it different now since I have no rietsu?"

"You have riestu, Ichigo."

"I did, but I've not seen any soul reapers or spirits around."

He turned, having retrieved the hand fan. From behind it his eyes questioned. "And just what do you think those creatures are? Human?"

It hadn't occurred to me before that they could be anything but, I simply assumed that they'd lost their souls as a consequence of the battle with Aizen. Now that just sounded stupid.

"Of course, it's not strong enough to be able to see soul reapers. They've been here, regulating what they can. Your spiritual pressure is just slightly higher than your average Karakura resident right now," he droned.

I wanted to question how, what they've been doing to help, why they weren't there to help Karin. But I couldn't now. I was stunned by what was happening, too relieved that I wouldn't be useless anymore. Selfish maybe, and maybe that would be a good thing.

"Now then, you must be aware that you'll have to train hard in order to become what you were before you lost your powers." I nodded stiffly. He nodded in return, but his eyes were somewhere just behind. "Ready."

My eyes widened. "What, now?!"

"No time like the present, Ichigo!"

With no time to wait, a sharp, metallic noise radiated outside and from within. Blood splattered before me, behind it a thin silver sword.

A zanpakto.

I couldn't breathe, I just stared stunned at the blade. I was in agony.

"W-who—i-is that-t?"

My movements rigid, I turned, and found a figure fading into view. Short and thin. Slowly, it developed features. Black hair, huge eyes. Black kimono.

Slate grey eyes, a sarcastic smile…

Rukia…I don't know whether I thought it or said it. I only hoped I didn't say it as I breathed it in my head. I was so happy I almost hugged that little gremlin.

"Nice to see you too, Ichigo." Her voice hadn't changed. That was when I noticed the lieutenant's badge on her arm. I nodded. "Congrats."

"Thanks, I deserved it working alongside you."

I smiled, and then saw another implication within her comment. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked, and put away her sword. "You were a very reckless and chaotic ally, Ichigo, and yet too serious and egotistical to regard as fun."

Anger, again, and a desperate need to prove her wrong. "Oh yeah? Having to save you all those times wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs for me either, Rukia," I seethed smoothly. Her grin didn't falter. "Welcome back to the world of the living."

I looked down, prepared for the matching black kimono replacing my tattered casuals.

"Welcome back indeed!" Urahara cheered, interrupting the reunion. "Rukia! Looking well, how is everyone?"

"Ask them yourself," she commented, folding her arms calmly. Beyond Urahara, a figure appeared in the familiar attire. A few more gathered, dotted around the training grounds. Mostly captain's uniforms. Finally, a tall figure appeared behind Rukia. I glanced up to the face of the captain of the 13th division.

"Captain Ukitake." I smiled fondly at the white haired man, and his ever easy demeanour didn't fail him. "Ichigo," he welcomed warmly. "You have been sorely missed by the Soul Society."

"Thanks, sir." I felt a glimmer of happiness as I looked at the man, because I knew right there and then that history was about the repeat itself, to some extent. He welcomed me as a substitute shinigami, as an asset to the soul society. He granted me with permission to be as useful as I could be. I respected him more than each of the other captains.

I wouldn't allow myself to revert back, no matter what.

"I thought it best that you work your way up through the ranks, just to judge what level you're at right now. You've always been unpredictable, ichigo." Ukitake glanced around at the surrounding captains and lieutenants, and their subordinates. It was like a trip through past experiences. Among them were the smiling and shining face of 5th seat Yumichika, a grinning Ikkaku, Renji with his zanpakto ready and resting on his shoulder, Toshiro, Byakuya, and finally Kyoraku. My eyes flitted back to Toshiro; I wondered if he knew. Karin had told me about their times together when he'd visit, and their reluctant friendship. His icy stare was unreadable as ever.

"Well, lets begin!"

I turned back to the former captain. "W-what, now? What about telling me about what those things are?"

"Distractions, distractions. Train now, learn later."


	5. Chapter 5

If this is the end of the world, I'm not sure I even want it. My resolve to discover my name is shaky with nerves, filled with doubt as to whether I'd ever find it. I looked down at the grey hand around mine instinctively, the only light, however dim it was, in the otherwise pitch black existence.

Was this just Karakura town? Or was it happening in other places? It had to be, something like this. There had to be other office workers and shop staff wondering around, parts and parcels of unspeakable matter clinging to their dry skin.

Please don't eat me, I chant inwardly.

"U-"

"Shh-shhhh."

We lumber our way through, having passed about 5 of them so far. That was enough, but thankfully the stench on my neck and emanating from U had strengthened my stomach. I simply allow him to guide me along, thinking in my little haven. It occurs to me that maybe this is how he got along, how he came through with a measure of mentality; his thoughts. Did he daydream? Does he have memories, or is he just as lost as i?

We enter some metal gates, and a large school yard opens out to us. Beyond it is a large brown building, and familiarity tugs. My school. It has to be.

He lets go of my hand, and makes his way back to the gates. Bending down, he retrieves the discarded lock and places it back, securing us. It took him all of 30 seconds, and I can't help but watch in bewilderment. The longer I spend with him, he seems to be improving.

He turns back to me, and I break from my reverie. He hums and I follow. I don't miss the smug tightening of his lips.

"U, do you know this place?" Somehow I can't place him at the school. He looks about the age, maybe slightly older, but he doesn't quite fit.

He thinks, given away from the distance in his eyes, and shakes his head slowly. "No."

We make our way through the silence, and enter into the building, becoming shabbier the closer we come within sight of the details. Graffiti, empty cans and candy packets, newspapers and rolls of paper. The windows in the entrance doors are dusty, but fully intact. I push them open, and they give a slight groan.

"It looks empty," I observe, entering and scanning up and down the halls. We make our way up through the corridors and stairwells, until I stop and wait for U. "Sorry if I seem impatient," I excuse, blushing at the sarcastic look on his face. I suddenly feel guilty.

His eyes turn from mine to an area on the wall behind, and I turn. My eyes grow wide at the notice board, filled with notes and pictures and pieces of paper. But its not those that stun me. It's the photograph in the centre. A class photograph.

"I recognise these! Some of them! Hmm…" I check and examine each of the faces, and recoil as I find my own. A girl, with the exact same face and hair, but so much more vibrant. Grinning from ear to ear, eyes wide and happy and careless, because she was with her friends. Around her, faces she knew, but they had no names yet. A purple haired girl, an aggressive smile on her face as she stood next to the cheery girl. A bispecticled boy, smiling but distracted. A tall, tanned boy, his eyes concealed by a mop of hair. An orange haired boy, grinning with self-assurance and confidence.

"W-woma-an."

I glance at U, and he plucks a sheet of paper from the top corner. He hands it to me. It's a list of names, each written in the students own hand. I glare at it like treasure.

U takes my free hand, and opens the class room door with a steady, tired sound, like it hasn't been opened for months. He guides me though, and stops at the desk. The teachers desk. He lets go of my hand, and grabs a pen from the pot next to the dusty computer screen, handing it to me. "This w-way, you c-ca-an…comp-pare."

I think, and then I realise what he's suggesting. I feel the unimaginable urge to hug the genius before me, regardless of smell.

"Maybe we could find a way of helping you find your name, U," I suggest as I scan the list before I try out writing them. "Tell you what, I say it with another letter, like Ub. You tell me if it fits as we move along the alphabet. Ok?"

He nods. Zombies are so difficult to read.

I find a desk, determined, and set the pieces of paper side by side. I work my way through the names, and it only takes 5 to notice a match. I write the name out next to it, just in case.

"_Orihime…Inoue_?"

Click.


	6. Chapter 6

"Ulk?"

I've been watching him for some time now, pondering our situation all the while, and summoning up the courage to actually confront the subject. Something doesn't quite fit, and I don't know why.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

The head of his silhouette turned, framing his profile in a dusty white glow. He doesn't look at me, instead to the floor. "I don't know," he replied bluntly, and I knew it as the truth instantly. I somehow knew how honest he truly was, and took it as the truth. I looked back to my hands resting in my knees, and tugged the piece of paper from my pocket. I scanned the names, welcoming any recognition. I then compared them to the picture, alternating my gaze between the two.

"You look like an Ichigo," I whispered to the orange haired boy grinning at me. I must have known him to make the match. After that, I was blanked.

"Do you remember any more of your name yet?"

"You ask…many…questions."

"I thought it might help trigger something."

I glanced back up, and found him leaning back on the windowsill, watching me with a blank expression. I didn't expect anything else.

"Sorry. If I hurt you with the questions, i-"

"You do not…hurt me with the ques…tions-s."

I sigh again, and abandon the photo and names list on the floor next to my spot. Standing, I sit on the edge of the closest desk.

"You seemed like you had something of the name out there, you starting talking. 'Ulku'?"

"Ulkui."

"Oh. Well, that's progress!" I jump of the edge and clap, but even I hate the motion. I regret it instantly. The boy just looks at me with that unreadable expression. I shake off the shame and revert back to smiling. "So, what now?"

…

"What now?"

What now indeed. Does she expect us to move? To explore for survivors? To scavenge for food, which would be awkward based on our differing preferences and palate? I have forgotten my hunger now, only reminded of it by the simple matter of sustaining her life force.

"We wait," I reply, silently satisfied by how my speech is coming along. Maybe her human influence of life is helping me relearn. Not that it would make much difference to my state of 'living'. Id just be the world's first eloquent zombie.

Her shoulders don't slouch in disappointment, but the light in her eyes fades at the prospect of atrophy. As for the possibility of food in the building, It would be as rotten as my kidneys by now.

"Okay then, no use just standing around. We should make weapons, anything to help us."

She says 'us' like we're equal.

…

I catch myself saying 'we' or 'us' every so often, cringing after minutes, not seconds. As time goes by, breaking down desks and chairs and anything else, the idea of him being dead is becoming less and less convincing. He talks, he thinks, he moves like someone who's just woken from a week's sleep. I keep imagining that, if he were actually a corpse, the room would smell. Maybe that's only if its warm, but its anything but.

As we work in silence, the light grey daylight fades into dark, almost black. Not the electric blue it should go. Just like a washed out landscape photo, the colourless remnants of the city are bathed in more shade. We lose the sunlight that was our only heat source, replaced by the frosty beauty of the clouded moon.

Gradually, we both slow, him after me, surrounded by dozens of sharpened or splintered sticks. I laugh at the image of us carrying them all under our arms.

"S…sleep, now."

I nod, concealing a yawn with my hand. "You too?"

He thinks, and shakes his head. "No. I…keep watch." He slowly rises to a stand, and I catch a couple of crunches emanating from his joints. "Happens."

I sadly smile, and connect my eyes with his. They seem different. Not so grey. Maybe it's the lack of light.

"Night Ulk..ui."

He hums in response, and the last thing I hear are his less than rhythmic footsteps, each getting slightly further away.

…

_A hand washes away in the dry atmosphere, as grey as the sandy substance beneath my feet. The pale hand ahead of me stretched to grab what it can, but the phantom limb disappears before I can feel it. I follow the arm as it disintegrates with my eyes, and they freeze on the melancholy emerald orbs. Just as they are about to fade away, my mind takes an image, lasting, of the emotion that colours them. For the first time, I can see that they feel. I take comfort in that, but I still leave the tear streaking down my face, in memory of the heart he found, all too late. I lower my hand robotically, scared to clench it in anger, frightened to crush the fragile object he'd observed there._

…

Why a teacher felt the need for matches in a class room, I doubt even a human could fathom. They are resting atop the desk like a signal, and I lumber over to them, cautious of waking the woman on the floor, guarded by fallen spikes. Why I should trust her with a spike again, I'll never know that either.

I grab the matches, slide the box open, and stare at the little sticks within, rattling within my shaking hand. What now? I stare for a minute longer, ignoring the seconds ticking by on the clock up ahead. I feel stupid just stood, staring at such simple objects. Finally, I slide them back in and place them back atop the desk. I check the clock, but that tells me nothing; each of the hands have fallen, laying on the bottom of the frame, with only the second hand ticking aimlessly. How does that happen?

I make my way back over to the window, but I don't look out. Instead, I think about the matches. Why? Because such simple little things, and I couldn't even fathom them.

…

Upon seeing Ulk for the first time that morning, I know that I know him. Not just since yesterday, but before. Like Ichigo, like the other faces without names and names waiting for faces. But, judging by my dream, his face is once that I shouldn't be seeing. It what really happened had happened, he shouldn't be sat in the corner when I opened my eyes.

But was that him? Was it even real? With only both of us in the dream, I had no lead. I doubt he'd even remember if the event had taken place if it actually had.


	7. Chapter 7

As the days pass, time begins to blend into a simple matter of dark and light. We make unnecessary weapons until all chair legs, table legs, and slates are now sharpened to a point. My companion and I have become close somewhat, her constantly encouraging me to think harder for the rest of my name, that ambiguous title that must so define me. Why was it so important to her? I was a zombie, albeit a thinking, speaking one. I muse to myself as I sit on the floor trying to figure out how to use those matches two matters; one, she pities me, and feels guilt for having obtained her name so easily. Two, I know what these little sticks do, but for the life of me I cant make my fingers pick one out to test it. The logic is there, but when I look for past experience, I draw a blank. Of course.

The woman, I find, when I look up to check for her presence, is sat at the desk, doing one of the few things she can do. When she's not arming herself, she's trying out for names. When shes not doing that, shes sleeping. When shes not sleeping, she does what shes doing now; stare at the photograph of her nameless friends. She showed me the image just hours ago for the first time, in a hope that a member of the undead would know. The only emotion I gathered from the experience was a disinterested dislike for the grinning orange haired idiot. He looked arrogant. I despised arrogance.

"Wo-oman."

Her hair shifts, and out of it her tired eyes peak from behind. She hmms a light note, much to high for me, and smiles a drawn, tired smile. I lift the little box slowly. "Can y-you...figure them...out?"

"Theyre matches, create fire. Have you never-...oh, sorry."

...

The longer I spend with him, the more alive he seems to me. I begin to get a general image of him before all this, and realise that he must not have been so different. He'd have had a beating heart, faster, more eloquent speech, granted. But I often get guesses that seem to suit him of the way he would walk without dusty limbs; graceful, sure, purposeful. I imagine his voice ghost like when I remove the scratchiness of his throat. I think back to the dream, and instantly place green irises on top of the grey. I am sure that as time passes, the dream-like emerald coaxes back into them.

But, that's just madness. I've never met the boy before.

But had I?

In what context?

For whatever reason, I cant place him in my everyday life. I cant even remember what that meant for me.

He interrupts me from my reverie, and I almost jump. What he asks seems dumb and obscure, and I cant help but begin a little short. In apology, I stand and demonstrate by scraping one of the sticks across the board. "See?"

"Hmm. Int-teresting." I smile at the term. Never before had I heard matches refered to as that before. I cant help but revel over how fascinated he is over the flame between my fingers.

"Can't you remember them? Matches? Fire?"

"No-not...like that. I know of f-fire. I can usually...place things. R-recognise them."

I nod in understanding, and move to sit by his side on the windowsill. "What can you be sure of remembering?"

He pauses to think, his blank expression creasing ever so lightly between his brows. "It sounds...depressing."

"Tell me...please?"

For the first time that day, our eyes meet, and all I see is the emptiness.

"Noth-thing worth...remembering. Ash...fire...noth-thing much...different to this-s.

_Ash..._

The dream flashes into mind. I picture his hand withering away over mine, just before I catch it. I picture those emerald orbs, a distant sorrow, eyes that had never seen brightness.

Never before had he looked so familiar than then.

All I find to reply with is, "that doesn't sound nice at all." My voice sounds fickle and young. He hums in response, and fumbles his fingers in the match box. He plucks one out, and strikes it. We both watch as it turns the rest of the wood black, and burn out at his fingertips.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been two and a half weeks since my my powers and the soul society had returned back into my life, and one week since leaving Riuken's hospital, having told my dad where I was. Every limb agonised at night, but, as the training continued, nights became easier, dreamless and relaxed. I've fought my way up to captain level, but that would never feel good enough. I'd embraced it the hollow and surpassed it, and now, I missed the darker side of me that gave me my edge.

I just wished that Urahara would tell me what they were, why he gave me back my powers so readily. What I was training to defeat.

A small tap at the door broke me out of my thoughts, and I hummed to permit the short silhouette to enter. I expected Rukia, but instead, Hitsuguya walked through, eyes cold and heavy behind his mess of white hair. "Kurosaki."

I stumbled through my words over shock for a moment, and sat up straighter in the presence of the young captain. "Hey, Toshiro. Whats up?"

He seemed awkward in the doorway, his hands pinned to his sides. He sighed, and looked down, and instantly appeared younger. Nothing more than a child. He looked back up, and opened his eyes, and I thought of all that time ago, the exiled and wrongly accused captain. "My apologies. I didn't mean to intrude-"

"You're here about Karin."

Again, he sighed, but remained solid in his stance. He didn't deny or admit it. He didn't say a word.

"You haven't...I mean, she isn't...?"

"She will be in the Seireitei, Ichigo. Like many others."

"So you haven't been able to find her?"

He paused for a moment, and for what felt like the millionth time, he sighed. "No. I've looked. But not yet."

I switched my gaze back to my knees, some unidentifiable emotion threatening its ugly head. The room felt thick with it.

"Thanks, Toshiro. I knew-...know...you're friends."

"I have no business referring to your sister as a friend, Kurosaki."

With that, he slid the door to a solid but quiet close, and left me blank.

...

The next morning, I found someone utterly unexpected in the train grounds, playing target practise with Ikkaku. I found Rukia watching from the sidelines, clearly impressed by the accuracy of the florescent blue arrows.

"He's out of practice, apparently. You cant tell, right?"

I watch in annoyance at Uryu, hitting the javelin from half a mile away within Ikkaku's fingers. With each hit, he flashes a further few feet away, spinning it harder and faster, his movements becoming more erratic and unpredictable. "How long has he been here?"

"About half hour, he came along shortly after a phone call with Kisuke. He didn't know you were here before then."

"Of course not, he's been elsewhere for months while I've been holed up in that place. Idiot."

She couldn't hide that condescending smirk. "So you don't know, either. That's strange."

"He disappeared, off the radar, left Riuken to help us get settled in. More or less straight after the war."

Rukia gave the exchange a brief thought, her index finger tapping on her chin. Se placed it back, tucked into her arms, and continued watching. "Maybe he's been doing something about his weaknesses, unlike some people."

i shot straight into defence mode, about to throw all kinds of profanities her way, when a white head flashed into view before us. "If you two wouldn't mind conducting yourselves in the proper manner, Kurosaki...I wish to talk with you."

instantly I straightened up, and itched the back of my neck awkwardly. "Erm, yeah, of course Toshiro." I flashed a look at Rukia, who simply shrugged in disinterest. I turned back to follow and we flashed out of earshot of the others.

"Firstly, Kurosaki, I would appreciate your discontinued use of my first name. I am aware of how much the soul society owes you, in turn myself, but-"

"Just tell me why you said what you did about my sister, and we can forget informalities." He stopped, blinked slowly, and nodded in acceptance. "You've become sharper in the last year or so, Kurosaki."

i didnt reply, i simply waited with my arms crossed like the big brother defending his sister from a bully. I stared down at the child captain, his aqua older avoiding mine. "I said nothing against your sister, Kurosaki. I simply said I have no business referring to her as my friend."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean? She wasn't about enough? Wasn't trained enough, strong enough, mature enough? She talked about you, more than even she knew, and-"

"Don't you dare imply such things! You believe I would say such things about her when I wasn't even around to save the one human i cared for?"

Frozen mid speech, I replayed his angry words in his head, every time sounding more and more like a guilty consciousness. "Toshiro I-"

"I said I had no business... because I wasn't strong enough to save her, and thus I do not deserve to be regarded as her friend."

Silence fell, until after a few seconds I could hear Ishida calling Ikkaku and imbicile for what ever reason. I avoided Toshiro's eyes, and instead focused on the collision far away to escape the thick atmosphere.

"I am sorry, Kurosaki. I failed your family, and myself."

"No, you didn't. Im her older brother, it was down to me."

I still looked away, but I could tell he couldn't say this, be so open and pitiful, any other way. I glanced, but his back was to me. "No. It wasn't. I swear, I'll find her myself." Then he flashed away.

...

On my break I sat on the steps and watched the captains duel against one another. Kyoraku and Ukitake, two of the oldest captains of the 13 court guard squad, laughing and countering murderous attacks like child's play. To me, they were invincible.

"Ichigo," a throaty voice greeted, and I looked up distantly to Uryu. "Ishida. Decided to come back."

"Hmm." He took a seat on the step two behind mine. He said nothing more than that, although he was never one for idle chit chat. We sat in silence for a few moments.

"Ichigo," he finally began. I looked around, pivoting my head on the palm of my hand. "Yeah."

"Do what ever you need to to get back into focus. Guilt is not going to spur you on if you give into it."

I turned back, my eyes tight. "You've spoken to the old man, then."

"No. Rukia told me. When it happened."

I frowned. "What?"

"I had a call from her, one of the few times she was down here. That's why I've come back. One hell of a journey, I'm afraid, on foot."

"I'm sorry, why have you come back?"

He stood, and pushed his glasses up. "Because, before we deal with any of the things down here, we have to get you back in the frame of mind. In order to do that, Kurosaki, we have to find Karin. For your sake, and Karakura Town."


	9. Chapter 9

_Ichigo, I whisper to myself, you don't have to kill him. Defeat him, but don't end his life. You're not a murderer!_

_The pair are standing on opposite sides, tattered and worn and heaving with exhaustion. I cant help but stare in saddened awe at my former captor. His arm was missing, his legs were withered sticks, thin enough to snap in two. He begs the red headed shinigami to end him, but he profusely refuses._

_"This is not how I want to defeat you!"_

_For the first time, I see emotion in his eyes. Its small, but enough to give me hope. All those things he said before, maybe he doesn't believe them now. Maybe he knows..._

_Those brilliant green orbs slide to see me, and my eyes sting. I let them, I let the thickness in my throat obstruct my speech. I let myself mourn the loss of the empty espada, because he never knew happiness._

_Are you afraid of me, woman? His voice echoes in my head, and im not sure whether he said it outloud, or somehow sent the thought for just me to hear it. _

_I'm afraid, I weep mentally, for you...Ulquiorra._

_Ulquiorra..._

I jump, and my head bounces from the hard wood floor. "Ow!"

"Woman."

I rub my cheek and scan the room all the way around to find him. I find him, sat back in a chair in the corner of the room where the light doesn't show. "Morning," I yawn, and stretch my arms all the way up.

"You... talk in your sleep." I stop dead, arms half way back down. "Oh," I say, blushing and giggling, "Sorry."

"You said ...a name," he observes in a dead pan voice. I find his eyes in the darkness of the corner, but they seem shadowed. "Whose?"

He stands, and emerges from the shadow. I recoil in silence and surprise. "Ulqui-!"

"Ulqui...orra," he finished. I can only stare. I suddenly feel weak beneath the grey - green eyes, a change that had definitely occurred beyond my imagination. He stopped, and his legs crossed beneath him. I adjust myself to mimic him, and we stare each other in the eye. I don't know what to say.

"Is that...my...name?" This isn't the zombie talking now. This is him. He's intrigued, stunned...scared. The emotion in his eyes triggers a memory.

The dream.

"Your name...is Ulquiorra," I confirm. For some unfathomable reason, tears sting my eyes. I continue to look him in the eye, even when he looks away momentarily. "I knew you. I must have." I remember the way his arm became spinning dust in the light breeze of the baron desert in the dream, and then force myself to assure myself that it must not have happened. It just sounds right. Ulquiorra.

I turn on the spot, and fumble on the desk for the picture beneath my fingers. "And he was there!" I exclaim as I point to the orange haired boy. "Ichigo," I recall. "Maybe he'll be able to shed some light on the subject!"

"Woman," Ulquiorra began, "What...are you...talking ab-bout?"

I show him the boy, pointing to him enthusiastically. "He was in the dream! In the dream you fought each other, and-" I stop myself before telling him his fate. I'd never had a prophetic dream before, and I didn't want to chance this one being just that. If that boy even dared to harm my friend, or whatever he was, I would be on my companion's side. I would defend Ulquiorra all the way.

But the boy didn't kill him. Not really. Ulquiorra succumbed to his wounds.

"And...what?"

I blink away the wetness before it could fall. "And that's when I found out your name. Then it ended." I meet his eyes defiantly. "We need to find him. If we want anymore questions answered, about us both, we need to find him." Without waiting for a reply, I stand, and go to the window. Its deserted, which is good. I grab an armful of sticks and motion for him to do the same. "We're...leaving?"

"We need answers. We need to get you back to health, and then we need to get the world back to how it was." It feels automatic to include him in my future plans now, it feels futile without him there. "Then we can get back to normality and start afresh."

Ulquiorra stands just as I finish straightening the weapons in my belt. I manage twelve on one side, and assumd that to be good enough. I stand straight, and recoil again. I realise how tall he is when standing straight.

His expression softens. "You're jumpy this morning."

"Always am!" I sing, and when he is ready, I lead the way from the classroom.

...

With one swing, Kyoraku's hat blew off, and his brunette hair waved as a few strands followed it. His eyes widened in faint surprise, and after a few moments, droned, "Well Ichigo, I did not expect you to do it that easily."

I continued to stand there, a grin etching its way on my features, but instead chose to concentrate on sheathing my zanpakto, feather light in my hands despite its largeness. "Thanks."

Urahara returned from his viewing station clapping his hand and his hand fan. "Well done Ichigo! 10 points!"

"Id say that was worth 30," Shuunsui cut in. Urahara ignored him. "I'd say you were just about ready. Training complete! Everyone, please follow me inside for a debrief."

Everyone exchanged looks, and followed the former captain up the steps like lost sheep. I caught up with Ishida, who seemed to be thinking intently. No change there. "So, reckon the old man's going to spill what those things are?"

"He'll have too."

"Do you have any ideas?"

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps."

He gave nothing more away, and we came back into the small living area. Once we were all inside, the floor closed back up. "Alright. Everyone find a seat!"

"Im alright standing, thank you," Ukitake assured. The other soul reapers nodded in unison, in fear of looking weaker. Urahara stood up front like the teacher, and cleared his throat in preparation. "Alright then! Thank you all for coming-"

"Get on with it, Kisuke," a voice urged from the doorway. We all looked up and down, to find the familiar black cat eyeing him impatiently. "Ichigo hasn't got all day." All eyes returned to the man at the front, blushing lightly. "Right, sorry. Okay! Lets begin." He pulled down a screen, while Jinta switched off the lights and a patch of brightness appeared on the wall. A blurred white square. "Sorry," Ururu's small voice excused, and she adjusted the lens until it revealed one of Rukia's childish rabbit drawings. Kisuke pointed his cane to the one dressed as a soul reaper. "Alright. I'm sure you're all curious as to the explanation of our friends that have been putting in an appearance over the last few months. Thank you to our resident artist, we can demonstrate this much easier. This one here, is a soul reaper. You're everyday joe, got it?" A few sarcastic murmurs, and suddenly I was in an authentic class room. I yawned, and promptly felt a cane to the face. "Focus, Ichigo!"

"Now, as we know, they began appearing a few weeks after Aizen's defeat. Thankfully, I managed to obtain one, and have gathered some rather interesting information. They are all a result of contaminated spiritual energy released from Aizen's being upon being fused with the hogyoku.

Gasps resonated from some, stunned faces from the rest. Except Uryu. He had his eyes closed, and appeared to be deep in thought.

"As this happened, all those who had been directly affected by it, such as the arrancar in Heuco Mundo, have risen as shadows of their former selves, but missing none of their strength. Unfortunately, as hollows feed on souls, instead of the souls becoming like hollows...they become, as modern culture would call it, "zombified."

"What happened to the one you obtained?" Uryu suddenly asked. He had a distrust of Urahara, not so misplaced, but what he implied may have come from a dislike of soul reaper scientists in general. "Have you kept it?"

Ururu flicked to the next slide, showing an image taken by photograph of the creature in question. It was scarred, empty, with long black hair around its face. Male.

"Mizurio," I stuttered. "What...n-no..."

"What we found from him was quite fascinating. We gathered much more from him than we deemed possible. When a human has considerable spiritual pressure, such as this young man, the contaminate fused with it and its intensity kills those without any measurable spiritual pressure. There are not many of that kind in Karakura town, so that is, kind of good. As long as souls don't get eaten, people are still able to defend themselves."

I heard the final few words, but saved processing them until later. "Where is he? When did you find him?"

"We found the boy just last week wondering by the school. We didn't harm him, Ichigo. He's still here."

"How is he?"

The lights switched back on with a nod from the ex captain, and Mizurio's faded face disappeared from the screen. "Lets go and see. Just you, if no one else minds."

I followed Urahara out of the room, and into the main shop area. He pulled out that same device in his pocket used to open secret doors, and just like that one opened out in the centre of the isle. Not steps this time, but a ladder. "Go ahead."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Nothing you can handle."

I nodded, reassuring myself that my zanpakto was with me. I glanced down in surprise. It was a bright room, simple white and minimalistic. It looked just like an extremely plain bedroom. I made my decent down the ladder, and hopped to the ground. I turned, and scanned the small area. "M-mizurio?"

A door swung open within one of the bright walls, and the short boy entered the room. I recoiled in shock. He looked...not dead.

"Miz..urio?"

His grey eyes widened partially, but only distant recognition registered within them. I sure as hell didn't expect him to speak. "I...is that...my na-name?"

I was stunned to silence.


	10. Chapter 10

2 days later...

"So Ichigo...are you ready for the final part of your training?" Kisuke taunted. Uryu stood by his side in support.

"I thought you said it was over! Is that why you brought me all the way out here?" All the way was an overstatement. We were in the main town, we could have flash stepped with little to no effort. But, in truth, I was pissed. "You said, back there, that was it!"

"Did I?" He poked his chin. "Oh well, my mistake! I take full responsibility and should sincerely apologise to my youngers for my despicable influence on such an easily influenced age group in an impoverished world-"

"Oh, shut up!" Ikkaku shouted from atop a very tall building near by, keeping watch. Yumichika was on the other end, sniggering. Uryu met my eyes from behind his gleaming glasses. "Remember this, Ichigo?" He rolled the little circular, pill like object within his fingers.

"Hollow bait, right?"

"Yeah. Last part of your training. Urahara forgot our agreement. This is a team building exercise. We've all been concentrating on individual development, but our team work skills need re-establishing."

"Everyone gets involved, Ichigo. Rukia, Ukitake, Kyoraku, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Hitsugaya, Kuchiki, Renji, Yoruichi, Kenpachi, Urahara, and myself."

As he listed the names, I realised those i'd not had chance to speak with yet. Byakuya, Renji, Kenpachi...maybe they too needed some self development.

"OK then, contenders! Team work, not a competition! The aim of the game is to extinguish every hollow that comes your way! Three..."

"Two..."

"One!"

The bait was crushed, and all went silent. A huge roar split the sky in two.

...

"Wow...did you hear that!"

_Of course he did, dummy, he's right next to you!_ I look to my side shyly. "I mean...that was really loud." Ulquiorra just nodded, looking increasingly uncomfortable in his progressively tattered clothing. I look down at my own, dotted with random brown marks and dust and stinking to high heavens. The walk through the town signals to me that there must be clothes stores near by, but whether they'd be stocked or not is another question. I wonder suddenly why I dismissed the roar, and my skin goes cold. "I wonder what it was."

Another roar fills the sky, too deep and alive to be thunder. I feel a hand on my clammy one. He's looking up at the sky. "R-run."

I nod, and we run. We round a corner, and come face to face with a zombie. Recognition plucks in my brain, but I don't know why. He is tall, thin, with long black hair. His left eye is missing from its socket. His tattered clothing is white...strangly similar to...

Ulquiorra coaxes me behind him as he stares down the creature, towering over us. His empty eyes assess us hungrily. "He's...strong."

"Then come on!" I whisper sharply, keeping my eyes on the man as I tug on Ulquiorra's hand. He wont budge. "Please!"

"He'll chase us... and then he'll catch you. If we ...run, you'll be tired, and he'll...catch you."

"And if we stay here, he's already caught us!"

He squeezed my hand, and I feel breathless and dizzy. "Trust me...Im...stronger."

"How do you know?!"

He looks to the side, I presume he's seeing me in his peripheral vision. "I have...you to protect."

I feel the ridiculous need to grin like an idiot. No time for that. He then continues to stare the tall man down. Roars are becoming more noticeable...closer. What are they?

Voices...I hear voices. "One there!" I glance up, and a blue arrow crosses the sky. "Nice!"

Objects, or people, fly across the buildings above, simple as hopping over stepping logs, but impossible distances. I watch in awe. "Ulqui-orra?"

A commotion is near by, gathering closer. I instantly look right. People are running towards us. Several people.

"Watch out!" One shouts, and they each fly and shoot over us. We follow them with our eyes, and to our left I recoil at the absolutely huge creature. Its a deep green, boxy in appearance. Its face is a white mask, similar to skull. "Ulquiorra!" I tug him out of the creatures path, and we run behind the tall man as he is crushed beneath its giant paw. Once we are a safe distance, we turn and look back. It has frozen, a long slice down its face. It shatters, and the entire creature shimmers out of sight. The figures drop to the floor.

"What are you doing?! You could have gotten yourselves killed!" an aggressive female voice cries in anger. The group nears us. 4 of them in total, how they managed to take down that huge monster is beyond me. They must be good. I turn to see Ulquiorra, and i'm suddenly terrified. What if they try and kill him?

The figure at the front is a boy, tall, in a black kimono. Orange hair... I think of the picture. Ichigo!"

I cant speak. I found him so easily, its scary!

"Hey, can we help? Are you hurt?"

As he gets closer, his eyes become wider... and wider...until his eye lashes are disappearing into his long bangs. "...Ori...hime?"

"Are...are you...Ichigo?"

His eyes tighten, and relax. He nods as he smiles sadly. "You don't remember me."

His eyes switch to my companion, and in a flash he unsheathes a humongous blade. "Step away from him, Orihime."

Just what I thought. I feel sick at the hatred in his eyes. I remember the dream, and it becomes clear. "No! He's with me! You kill him, you kill me, got it? He's not your enemy anymore! Whatever he was when you nearly killed him, he came back, and he has no memory of it! He's a good person, so if you dare lay a finger on him I swear I will-"

"You will...what?" Ichigo taunts. His eyes are filled with shock and anger that im reacting this way, and I don't care. I'm not that ignorant child grinning in the picture anymore. Innocent, sunshine and rainbows Orihime, no! That ends. That ends because someone is about to hurt the man who brought me back.

"I will make you pay for hurting him."

...

She must have been brainwashed, because she was so defiant. Her eyes were different, her stance was stronger. She was convincing. But I knew her too much to know she would do anything to protect her friends, even if it meant that bastard Ulquiorra would be able to kidnap her again. It was him, right? His hair was slightly dishevelled, but that made no change. He was grey in colour, but again...man it was hard to tell the difference. The only real recognisable changes were that he stood slightly limper, his eyes were only slightly duller, and his clothes were very tattered. It was him alright, and even though he couldn't possibly remember me, I had the feeling he knew to hate me. He didn't charge at me, but he never did unless under extreme provocation. He stood by his captive, like a guard doing his duty.

But he was a zombie. Ulquiorra, 4th Espada, was simply a vessel of contorted and contaminated riestsu. He had the strength, the power to turn all those around him into something weaker, but just as lifeless. It was so pitiful, I couldn't even laugh at the irony of it. "Orihime, please..."

"Ichigo, no. Not if you hurt him."

"But he's the enemy! Whatever he's done to you, its wrong!"

Her eyes widened, and she adjusted herself so she was standing a little further away from him. I realised it was she who was guarding him, and that they were holding hands. Gripping until her knuckles paled.

"I've done...nothing to her...soul reaper."

My stare snapped to his, and I couldn't believe it. He was able to speak, too! Somehow, that made me angrier than ever. Orihime looked stunned, also, as she turned her face to see his. His gaze was stapled to my face.

"Ulquiorra? How do you know...soul what?"

"Soul reaper," I finished for her. That clarified it. He was speaking, he had memories. It became obvious as this reunion mapped out that these two only had each other. Why else would they be so attached, if not for the reason I still partly suspected? He was always so straight forward, and never had to lie. Begrudgingly, I had to believe his assurance that he'd done nothing to influence her. But how far did those memories go, and how detailed were they?

"You know what I am."

He continued to stare, and said, "I am aware...of the term...Images...coming back to m-me."

"You mean, dreams?"

He looked to Orihime, and she nodded. "I didn't think you slept."

"I didn't know...either." Impossibly, a ghost of a smile found its way in his voice. Id never heard any emotion in that droning ghostly voice before. Orihime smiled sadly. "You should have said."

"When you...mentioned the dream...just now, I would've passed them...off...as imagin...ation."

"A corpse with imagination, whatever next!" Ikkaku shouted from above, listening to the entire conversation without our knowledge. "Come on Ichigo, finish him before I get a chance!"

I hesitated to make a decision, which had only happened twice with this particular hollow. I took in the situation. Orihime protecting him, Orihime holding his hand, Orihime being so much stronger than when I knew her before. I looked at Ulquiorra, looking almost identical to the one i'd killed, even with a jagged hole where his hollow hole should be, standing a little less straight, with a little more emotion. A corpse with emotion and...and imagination. He dreamt, he thought, he spoke...he held her hand. But he knew me. He knew who I was and he hated me. It was Ulquiorra alright.

I struggled so much with it that I forgot the others behind me, watching as I made the decision to kill the enemy.

"Please Ichigo, help us. You didn't kill him, last time...when he was the enemy."

I didn't, because...because it wouldn't have been right. To kill something when it was dying and defenceless anyway. He was a sorry creature, ash in the wind. Ash in the wind that rearranged into whatever he was now. What if he remembered more...and of what he was?

Orihime's crying face as he died before her...outstretched fingers.

Who was I to say that he deserved to die?

"Fine...I'll leave this to Kisuke."

The roaring continued, but I didn't care for them. I had one now, stronger than them all, and I was saving him.


	11. Chapter 11

"Uryu! Seen Kisuke?" The tanned lady with the aggressive voice shouted above. I looked above, and my eyes watched, stunned, as a boy willingly fell from the office block, beautiful glowing bow in hand, and land as graceful as a cat. His feet made a light tap as they made contact with the tarmac. I found his eyes, and low and behold, I was face to face with another of my apparent friends. His eyes were wide. "You look awful," his deep voice observed. His eyes then switched to the man by my side. "Orihime, what are you doing with him?"

My lips parted and wobbled to the struggle of finding a reply. "He's...with me! Stop treating him like he's the enemy!"

"Orihime, I was there when he died. His return is...only possible if he's one of them."

"Uryu," Ichigo began. He was standing guard the other side of my person, avoiding Ulquiorra while all the time making sure he didn't harm me. I wondered if he ever did. Ichigo mentioned I was once...his captive? Somehow, I couldn't picture this version hurting me.

"Uryu," I whispered to myself, and this name seemed more familiar to me to say. I looked back up at the faces surrounding me, slowly piecing together the fragments of my past. I was, however, eternally held in the present by the grey hand around mine, not loosening once. "I'm not abandoning him. You chose to help him too if you're going to help me."

I made eye contact with each of the blank faces, undecided as to what to do. I knew I was putting them in a difficult position, but I didn't really mind when it came to Ulquiorra.

"W-woman..." he began into my ear. I turned to see his face, ever so close suddenly. His eyes were wide with surprise. "May-be you should...go with them. Wi-without...me."

My own eyes felt dry and wide. "No, you cant mean that. I'm staying with you-"

"Orihimi," Uryu's voice said again. "Come with us."

"Not if he's not going, too! Its both of us or neither of us!"

The hand squeezed tight, and then it suddenly felt very, very cold. He backed away as I watched, and he was the furthest away he'd been since we'd left the school.

"I'll...be fine. Go." He backed away, and I was frozen in fear. I began to follow, unsteady, and then it turned into a sure march. "Ulquiorra! No, you're not leaving me with them."

"I'm...the enemy. Stay with me...so are you. You...wanted your old...life back."

"Yes! Want_ed_!"

Arms grabbed my elbow, unfortunately much stronger than me. I couldn't tug away. He continued to move further away. He kept his eyes on my hand. "They will help y-you."

Tears brimmed in my eyes, sickness settling in my stomach. I felt a tug in my chest, and then I was crying. "No they won't. Not like you have."

"Orihime," a deep, cold voice said. Not any of the ones I recognised. "No! Let go!" I turned my eyes on the stranger, a tall man in a black kimono just like Ichigo's, his slate grey eyes stoic and distant. "Now!"

"He Is the enemy, girl. He is now, and was then. Let him go. He has nothing, is nothing."

Anger bubbled up, and I turned to see Ulquiorra. I panicked when I found just a small silhouette, the remains of his jacket blowing out behind. His shoulders hunched, he never turned again to see me. I felt numb as he disappeared from sight.

"Ulqui...orra..."

I closed my eyes, and let the darkness fall.

...

"Will she be alright?"

Kisuke watched on, lounged against the wall as Tessai dabbed Orihime's sleeping head with a damp cloth. His eyes were shadowed beneath his hat. "In sure time."

She breathed slowly, but her eyes were restlessly twitching beneath the lids. I kept quiet, instead trying to appreciate that we had her back, just not quite how we knew her. What had that bastard done, exactly?

The door slid across, and Rukia sat on one of the available cushions. "All the hollows are defeated. Its quite impressive to see the captains at work, the Menos were gone in a flash."

I hummed in response, but I was too distracted to listen. Over and over again, against my will, the scene a few hours ago replayed. What made her so attached to him? It never happened before. Were all those memories truly gone? I couldn't believe that. She hated him before, detested him. When had that changed? The battle? His death? When they'd met again?

So many blanks, who knows how much time they'd had together.

If that was so, why didn't he kill her?

I thought myself into a trap. That espada had caused to much chaos to my friends and I, turned me into something, brought something out i'd never been aware of on a conscious level. He made me show mercy.

I'd not killed him then, because he was dying and pathetic. I'd not killed him hours ago. But he was supposed to be dead. Yet, he was more alive than i'd seen one of his kind before. Starrk, the first dead Espada id encountered, was nothing of his former, lazy, laid back self. Ulquiorra, I reminded myself, was speaking, thinking.

Was it possible?

"Urahara," I began. "Is it possible for an on of those things to come back to life? One...like him?"

"As opposed to your friend down there? I've just been thinking about that myself. It seems so."

Uryu cleared his throat. "He's very different, however."

"That's because he has no memory of his past."

The black cat slithered around Urahara's ankles. "Not entirely true. He identified Ichigo as a soul reaper, and as his enemy."

"So, he's getting memories of his past. Is that why he left?"

"That's very out of character for him. If he knew I was his enemy, he'd have stayed to fight."

"Not in his state."

Rukia stood, and looked down at Orihime. "Poor Orihime."

"What do you mean?" Ichigo said. He knew exactly what she meant, but he didn't want to admit it.

"I mean, idiot, she's going to miss him. You just don't want to see that, because of who each is to you. One, a close friend. One, the enemy who captured her and the guy you defeated. They've both changed. They're both different from how you remember.

"They've only had each other for however long, any idea what that results in?"

I bowed my head, and avoided her face. Yes it was her, but not quite. That wasn't the Orihime we knew and loved.

"We'll bring her back, we just have to help her remember who her friends are, and who're the enemies."

Rukia stared at me for a long moment as if i'd said the stupidest thing in the history of the world, and away to Urahara. She motioned to me. "How is this idiot even allowed to carry a zanpakto!" She yelled. Then back to me. "Are you really that _stupid?! _He's all she knows right now! He helped her, and she stayed with him despite knowing he was the enemy at some point! Orihime's a smart girl, Ichigo. Do you think she would stay with him if she didn't trust him? He might know what the soul reapers are, and who were his enemies. But that doesn't mean he knows who _he _is!"

I held my eyes on a spot on the sickly green walls, arms crossed high over my chest. I felt like a child, angry at being argued against. "Yet," I scowled.

"Yet," she repeated. She sat back down in front of me and nodded. "He's out there, right now, wondering. I don't know what happened with him that's different from the others, but I have a feeling she has something to do with it. I also know, from your accounts, he's coming back as a different variation of the 4th Espada. Now, do you guys really want to have an extremely powerful arrancar with a growing collection of memories wondering around by himself to dwell and become the thing he was before, or do you want to have him here, safe and away from harming others, back under the good influence of Orihime?"

I hated that little dwarf, stupid idiot genius. I kept my petulant pose going strong, until we all heard something to turn our heads.

"I'll...I'll keep it s-safe...Ulqui-orra," she whispered, eyes still clamped shut.


	12. Chapter 12

_His hand bites to dust, just too early for me to grab it. What if I hadn't gone to take it? Would it have burst in a silent, significant way, like burning wood? Did I speed up the process, would he have stayed a little longer if not for me? What would he have said next? _

_Could I have saved him? I see the huge, black wings shrinking, disappeared into him, taking him with them. His emerald eyes are cool with silent acceptance. Was that what that emotion was, stuck there each time I looked into them? Acceptance for death? Was he always, eternally prepared for it? That was too sad, far, far too sad._

_As his face, the final part of him left, dissolved, my hand, outstretched, felt heavy. I heard words in my head, his voice, but ghost like. Intrigued, curious. A whisper of contentment, and of loss. _

_"I see it now...in my hand...was a heart..."_

_I looked to my hand, frozen in suspense, as though holding it out would encourage his atoms to rearrange. I wanted him to have it back, just to see what he'd be like with something so precious. After a few moments, I closed my eyes, and allowed my heavy arm to drop. Not once did I close my hand, frightened to crush the invisible gift. "Ill...keep it safe...Ulquiorra."_

...

My eyes burst open to a flash of lime green and white, and then faces blended into the mix. I heaved and jumped, and sat up straight. I looked around at the strangers, barely feeling a pang of familiarity. They stared at me, stunned.

"Orihime," a small, black haired girl said. She too was in one of those kimonos. "Are you alright?"

I thought, and stared down at the palm of my right hand. "Oh, good. Yes, I think so."

My voice was shaky and hollow, but maybe they would stop staring like that if I pretended. I found the bespectacled boy, the only one I vaguely recognised beyond the picture. "Are you...going after...him?"

He met my eyes, and nodded. I panicked, but tried to keep it hidden.

"Why? He's done nothing to you. Any of you. Not _him _him."

Ichigo, looking like he'd just been slapped or told off, adjusted his seating uncomfortably. "Yeah," he said, itching the back of his head, "We're not killing him. Looks like you win." He stood, and stretched. I'm off to train with Renji. See ya later." He flashed from sight.

"Orihime, do you remember anything at _all_? Can you tell us what you remember, exactly?"

I pushed hard for memories before the hospital, but they were constantly becoming darker, and darker. Darker than before. So I began where I started. The hospital. Meeting U, finding the school and the clues to my name, the dreams, and escaping the school with Ulquiorra in tow and up to here. I realised then that what felt like a long time with him was merely days when I spoke of them. I included how he was when I first met him, and how far he'd come up to the point he left.

The more I spoke, the closer I came to the end of the story, the thicker my throat felt, until my voice could barely push past the lump. My story came to a close, and I helped myself up. "I'm just going to get some air."

Rukia nodded. "We understand."

I found I liked her. She listened to my story, she didn't interrupt. Her eyes were full of sympathy, as I my story were simply just a tale of losing a friend, someone special. She listened as though the person i'd lost wasn't him, somebody normal.

The rain was pouring heavily, so I stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame and holding myself in a pathetic, lonely hug. Typical, the whether was just as heavy and oppressive as the mood I was in. I felt no better, in fact I was reminded again and again that he was out there, on his own, hopefully smart enough to find shelter. Would he be bothered about that?

Would it affect him if he got caught in the rain?

I had the strongest urge to just go, to find him, seek him out and bring him in the warmth. While both of us wanted answers, I was the one who was getting them, the shelter. The past was coming back to me, but I wasn't sure I was the one who wanted it. All I wanted was a name. The rest I would accept.

"Oh, Ulquiorra..." I whispered pathetically, and a tear silently fell.

A couple of light footsteps approached, and I caught a glimpse of the purple haired woman. I didn't say a word to her.

"You know," she began, not sounding half as angry back in the town, "I would put 1000 yen on things not being so bad in the morning." I heard the light smile in her voice, like a teasing sisterly tone. I looked to her, tears still trickling down. "Really? Just...sleep on it?"

"Yeah!" she motivated, her cat like fangs poking out from her smile. "I recommend it rather strongly. The worst day of your life can only become better with sleep."

I thought about that for a moment, liking the poetry of it, and looked back out to the rain. "I don't know."

"The way you spoke about him in there, I'll say he'll be home soon enough. You wont even have chance to miss him."

The way I spoke about him? What? She wasn't even in there. Was she listening at the door. "You...you heard that?"

"Are you kidding? Cat ears pick up anything, Orihime." She grinned, and left.

The woman...was the cat?! My eyes widened. No...way.

...

The rain drops bite sharply at my skin, the skin exposed by the ever decreasing material left of my clothing. It feels sharp, numb and sore at the same time, a shock and a dull ache at once, all over. I grab at the scant pieces around my torso and arms to shield my shoulders, but they fall apart from my off white skin. I don't stop...I carry on walking, enduring the tiny stabs, slowly causing great aches in my muscles.

What is this? What is this sensation? Droplets of water, rain, filled with tiny microscopic blades, slashing me. My muscles begin to shiver and tense. I don't know this...its unfamiliar.

But its not. I'd tried to work those little sticks, those matches, to stop the girl shivering. I knew what they were, I knew what they did. She was shivering...she once complained. What was that word?

Cold.

Was I...cold? I'd never felt that before. Not even in rain heavier than this, thick snow fall, things I knew somehow were meant to be cold. I'd gone...how ever long i'd gone without being affected in any way by temperature. It was a time like this I wish it hadn't changed.

Wait. If i'm cold...what does that mean? Am I changing?

Is it meant to hurt like this?

I continue walking, but at a slower pace.

What if I were changing, what then? Continue to limber and wonder and ache with no memories? I cant think straight.

I don't recognise this part, although we must have walked through it. I stop to look around, grey sky and dilapidated buildings surrounding, intimidating me. They tower over me like masses of those creatures we encountered, thundering quietly but with a message. I was alone...for the first time in days.

Before, I wanted to be alone with my thoughts much of the time. Now, i'd found someone who shared them.

And I left her...Just as I was becoming...interesting.

I am changing. I had changed. Does that mean im still the enemy? Or am I some ambiguous being, on the line between dead and what ever I was before?

Why do I say things like that? That I was something other than...alive?

Would I ever be that?

Whatever happens, I suddenly begin to realise that leaving her was a poor idea, for my sake. But where do I find her?


	13. Chapter 13

That Yoruichi had some brains; once I woke up, I noticed the sun shining strongly through the windows from my futon. The sheets were softer, my head foggy with sleep and yet clear with a sense of normality. I had a good feeling about the day ahead of me, and I couldn't figure out why. Perhaps it was the knowledge that it was no longer raining.

But where was he?

After I stretched and dressed, I walked out to find my new roommate, Rukia, who'd explained to me the purpose of the soul society in its most basic form. I didn't ask how Ulquiorra knew what they were, and she didn't tell me. I appreciated her for that.

"Morning Rukia!"

She laughed in surprise as she sipped at the mug of coffee, despite the small scowl of dislike. "Hey Orihime, you seem better today."

I smiled kindly, but I noticed an itch in my brain. I couldn't quite settle yet.

"Rukia, I want to talk to you about somethi-"

"Finding Ulquiorra. Yes, I know."

I stumbled in my speech, and then gave a questioning look. She smiled. "If you feel so strongly about it that you say it in your sleep, we're going to take it seriously."

I blushed like a mad woman, and sat when she motioned to the table. I passed on the coffee.

"Look, Orihime, we are going to find him. You might not realise this, but we're capable. Especially if Ichigo is with them."

"What do you mean, 'especially with Ichigo'?" I heard the faint dislike in my voice for the boy, the orange head who seemed a little too arrogant. He treated Ulquiorra like trash. For that, I couldn't believe he would do this out of the kindness in his heart.

As much as I began to trust Rukia, I couldn't share that with her. She seemed to put a lot of faith in him, and who was I to dispute it?

"Will he find him?"

Rukia looked over her mug, and nodded quietly. "Come with me."

I followed her from the meeting/dining room to the main shop area, and from there to the front yard. "Do you hear that?"

I pushed my ears hard, but I couldn't pick up on a thing. I wondered whether soul reapers had extra sense or something. "No, what is it?"

She edged out a little more, a tiny smile on her lips as she closed her eyes. "Unprecedented silence. No bickering, no small talk, no sarcastic insults, no fighting. Quite a rarity these days, both down here and up there. The captains that came with me, my brother, Renji, Uryu, Yoruichi, and Ichigo, are out there right now, looking for him. It takes a lot to get those guys so focused."

I stared out at the buildings, only picking up on the soft swishing of the breeze, and swallowed. "Why?"

"Because you need him here right now. I think, in the long run, we all do."

"Why?" I asked again, feeling my eyes begin to pool.

She glanced to her side at me, meeting my eyes from behind her bangs. She seemed to be choosing her answer from whatever emotion was in my eyes. Finally she looked away again. "He was very powerful, last I knew him."

"Ulquiorra?! Powerful?!" I couldn't believe how she said it. She nodded, her eyes lost in a bad memory.

"A few months ago, there was a war. Between the soul society and the hollows I was telling you about. They come in different forms, different stages. The one kind, the arrancar, are the most powerful, and the smartest. They are hollows with shinigami powers." As she spoke, her voice became colder and a little more distant. "Ulquiorra, along with 9 others, were part of the Espada's, a group of the most powerful arrancar. Ulquiorra was the 4th."

"The...4th...most powerful?" I asked, stunned to a whisper. I dreaded hearing the rest of the truth, but I found I couldn't stop her. "Ulquiorra?"

She nodded. She wasn't getting much fun out of this, but this was obviously what I needed to know. "Yes. You must understand, Orihime, that, while he is different now, you do not know the full story. Ichigo may be a hot head, an arrogant imbecile at the best of times, but he has his reasons...some of them to do with Ulquiorra."

My voice comes out a lot weaker than I intend it to. "How?"

The short girl took a sharp intake, and folded her arms over her chest. "Orihime..."

"Rukia, please. No matter what you tell me, I know it's in the past. Did he...kill anyone?"

Rukia edged her sight to me. I just stared at her. Suddenly, I had the memory of the first conversation upon reuniting with Ichigo. He mentioned Ulquiorra...taking me again?

"Did he kidnap me?"

This time she sighed, and began again. "Aizen, the ruler of the hollows, ordered Ulquiorra to persuade you to come to Heuco Mundo. Ichigo, myself, Uryu, and some of the others from the soul society, went to rescue you. A few battles happened, we won...but Ichigo had it the worst, I would say."

"He killed Ulquiorra, didn't he?"

"No. Once Ichigo found you, he fought Ulquiorra, who was just too powerful. He overpowered him, and Ichigo...became something else. He overpowered him, and...he died."

"Ulquiorra...died."

She nodded. "He begged Ichigo to kill him to make him a clean winner."

"But he didn't," I concluded. "He let him drift in the wind. That was in my dream."

She turned to find my eyes, giving me full on eye contact for the first time in a while. "You remember it."

"Just the last part. As he died, he decayed, slowly and yet too quickly. He held out his hand to me, and when I grabbed, he just...went."

The silence was broken temporarily by someone shouting, but I couldn't quite make out what or who.

"Rukia, why was I taken? What did...Aizen...want with me?"

A clicking sound broke, and we both looked to find Urahara peering at us from beneath his hat. "You have a power, Miss Inoue, that Aizen was very interested in."

I switched glances between the pair, Rukia staring at the man in surprise and the man himself watching behind his fan, guarding his expression. "And I believe, given the nature of your power, that you are potentially...curing them."

My pulse seemed to stop and sink then, disappearing like it never existed. Then it returned, strong and fast and stunned, rushing the blood to my head until it ached. I had no idea what expression I had, but apparently I was shocked. "I'm sorry to surprise you like that, Orihime, but if we're going to get it back its best you know." He nodded curtly, and turned on his step to slowly retreat back into the shop. I followed a little later, to sit on the porch. I rested my head against the post, and I noticed that Rukia had also left me alone.

Once again, I was sat with my arms around me, a sorry expression and a tear forming, wishing I didn't feel so alone and helpless around these people. Powers? Battles? Espada? Ulquiorra once an evil enemy? He kidnapped me? I couldn't take it all in, and I felt sick at the effort. How is it that the one who'd wronged me so much was the one I needed?

I shook my head from the thought, knowing it to be illogical. I found myself wishing i'd never woken up from that hospital bed, never left. Just stayed hiding in a cupboard somewhere, somewhere Ulquiorra wouldn't have found me and taken me out of my daze. Because then I wouldn't have become so dependent on him, and ended up with a strange group of people while he left in the rain, somewhere desolate. I found myself wishing that he was still the enemy, so I could hate him.

But I couldn't. Despite what I now knew was true, I couldn't find it in me to imagine to hate him. I felt dizzy at the memory of him leaving, and I felt the twitch of the tears at the dream of him dying. I imagined him appearing over the hill, tattered and soaked and lost and fully revived, but still completely Ulquiorra, and I felt the smile tense at the heart strings. The tears fell, and a weep escaped with little effort to supress it.


	14. Chapter 14

"I think we need to give her a little space," Mr Urahara advised as he made way through his little shop, his clogs making soft clanks on the wooden floor. So rhythmic, so controlled, I wondered how he stayed so composed all the time. Never once had I heard his footsteps out of sync. My train of thought led me to imagining him as one of those creatures, uncoordinated and unorganised.

I shook my head free of the strange path it had taken. and stopped walking. "I think she's had enough alone time. She needs friends," Ichigo's voice offered, low and solid, like he was talking about an object he had a cold protective force over. Like a toy that was his, like his powers. I found I didn't like it at all.

"She hasn't, Ichigo. She's just spent a lot of time away from us."

He shrugged. "Same difference." His voice was short and clipped, but his eyelashes hovered over those brown eyes a little too long. They met my eyes, and he sighed. "What is it, Rukia."

"Oh, nothing," I commented offhandedly, crossing my arms calmly over my chest. "I just thought you only wanted the best for your friends, at all times."

"Rukia," Urahara warned, sensing a danger I was about to spark in Ichigo. I kept contact strong with the brown orbs. "What? Its obvious to the point that even _he_ knows it, and yet he wont admit it. Orihime wants Ulquiorra with her, i'm not sure she knows why yet but we do."

"So what? We're keeping her away from the enemy-"

"Not anymore, Ichigo! Right now shes on her own with strangers, and the only person she truly knows isn't here. We need to find him-"

"Oh! Talk of the devil himself!" Urahara chimed happily, and I couldn't deny the dense rietsu. It was stronger than before, and...almost...

...

Somehow, I sensed it. Opening my eyes sleepily, I found that nothing had changed, no new smells or objects coming into vision, no change in the constant, steady breeze. Yet, my skin prickled against the neutral air.

I heard a woosh, and instinctively turned my face against the sharp, instant breeze.

"Miss Inoue."

I peered round beneath the curtain of hair the woosh had blown in, and the tall man with slate grey eyes regarded me from above. His cold stare made my nervous, like I was doing something wrong. "Oh, errr...Captain Kuchiki. M-morning." My shaky smile was hindered by hair breezing into my mouth. That's when I heard low breathing, not in sync with the captain's chest rising and falling in barely noticeable motions. I pushed my head round, feeling mechanic.

I felt my breath leave my lungs as I met the vivid, emerald green irises.


	15. Chapter 15

Within seconds my arms were wrapped around his neck, moving so fast that I was sure I watched a few strands of the captain's hair shift to the breeze. "Ulquiorra!" Suddenly everything was the coldness of his chest, his light struggle within my bear hug and my heart hammering like a woodpecker's beak. I realised he was shivering, and took a scalding mother-like step back. I was just about to say something...when I blushed like a lunatic. His chest was bare.

"Erm...we need to...er...get you...a erm..."

"Coat," he answered sharply.

"Yes!" I grabbed his hand and led him into the empty shop, leaving the extremely proper captain in the front yard. I led him to mine and Rukia's room. "Wrap yourself in that," I said, motioning to the blanket on my mattress, and disappeared in pursuit of the dining room. I located and pushed the newly installed button next to the door, and raced down the steps as they formed. "Coat! I need a coat!"

Somehow I lost my footing, and only caught a short glimpse of the forthcoming steps before my vision went black.

Something grabbed me suddenly, holding me close, and I was snapped out of my slow motion fall.

"You'll break your neck saving me, one day," the familiar, ghost like voice commented. I snapped my eyes open to the pale white of ulquiorra's chest, and giggled myself back into reality.

"Orihime! Are you alright?" Rukia shouted, and shot up the steps as I turned my head to locate her. I nodded insecurely, face searing hot with embaressment and fear and happiness. "Yes! I'm fine!" Ulquiorra let me down, but kept his arms poised for capture incase I was as weak as I felt. "He needs a coat. Has Ichigo got one?" I asked, trying to find him within the training grounds.

"Erm, he's elsewhere. Come on, ill show you to the clothes and ill be out of your hair." She made eye contact with Ulquiorra. "Thanks...for saving her. That was pretty quick moving..." I looked to him for a reaction, which was a simple furrow between his thick eyebrows.

I looked back to her, and we both smiled. I felt our friendship grow by the second as I saw the understanding in her eyes.

...

"These should fit," I commented, throwing the grey jeans on top of the crushing pile of clothing, balanced weakly on top of the chair, next to which was Ulquiorra, looking like the classic boyfriendwaitingwhilegirlshopsforclothes, but patient all the same. I felt so giddy, both by his presence and his trust in my judgement for clothes for him. I made my way carefully around the large walk in wardrobe, holding his trust and regarding it like a delicate bird in my hand. "So, where did you get to?"

I hadn't heard him talk since he saved me from death, and I missed his voice. I waited for his response, wondering if he'd heard at all.

"Nowhere, I just walked."

"Oh."

A few moments later, "Then it rained...and realised I was cold."

I stopped midway a clothes rail, the words triggering something within my brain that actions simply didn't. I saw him shivering, felt his cold skin...but he felt it, too.

"You were...cold?" I turned to see him watching me with bright green eyes, so different and yet so familiar. His eyes alone should have been telling me he was changing.

"Yes. For the first time in...a long time."

Instead of carrying through with my task, I took the clothes pile and placed it on the floor so I could take the chair. This was much more important, and I could hear the thudthudthud in my ears. "How...how did you know?"

For a moment it became clear to me what was happening. Here we were, in a shop, back in my old life with faces I should know and yet didn't, faces I only recognised from an old school photograph, and yet all that mattered to me was that this man was sat here, in a simple white shirt and black pants, coming back to life before my eyes, talking about the cold like a child. It made my chest ache with something unidentifiable.

"I identified the symptoms, how the rain felt on my skin, my response to how you reacted to the cold back in the school...and then I realised that I needed those matches."

I felt my lips tug into the smile for the millionth time in the past half hour. "That doesn't make much sense," I breathed. He frowned again.

"I felt cold based on how you...acted. You shivered, and I...shivered."

"Because you were cold."

He nodded.

I looked down momentarily to his neck, and it seemed of very little importance that the wound was smaller now. I knew what was happening, and that was just a piece of the puzzle. It was a little sad, seeing the evidence of how we met disappear like that.

"So...how did Captain Kuchiki find you?"

Instead of frowning, his face became a little colder, and his eyes a little more distant. "I was looking for shelter...and he found me. He knew who I was, and that was when we came here."

"You don't seem happy about it," I reasoned, hoping that wasn't the case.

He found my eyes again, and the coldness thawed. "I wanted to find my own way back. I didn't want to appear...pitiful."

It was my turn to frown, and the idea of him thinking that way made me angry. "No! Never say that. You're never pitiful. Never say that again-"

"Woman, you're changing colour again."

His eyes had widened slightly in a variation of his brand of mild distress, and my face simmered down again. I still hated the idea of him thinking that way. "I wanted to go out and find you, but I didn't know where to start. And with you leaving...I thought you didn't want to...be...that you didn't want to be with me..." my voice began to shake in a pathetic way that made me realise I was panicking. His hands found mine in my lap, and his grip was surprisingly warm.

"Stop."

I stopped. Not for his ordering me to do so, or for his hands around mine, or even the look in his eyes. I stopped because of how close his face was now, as though he'd moved instantly in response to my emotional reaction to a flash back. We were so close that I could see the flecks of black in his irises, and he could probably feel the nerves in my breath.

"Don't do that again," he whispered.

"Why?" I asked, my voice small and high and raspy.

He never broke eye contact as he said, "Because you're terrifying when you do that."


	16. Chapter 16

Apprehension felt foreign to me, and that's how I knew how to identify it. Unpleasant, clammy, and sickly, distantly of course. I felt temperature changes now, and appreciated it like a newly developed skill, but it didn't mean I was cured. My fingernails were still broken, my skin still an off white. My pulse was my only sure reminder of what was happening while I was fully clothed.

Orihime regarded me with a forced disinterested expression, but I could see another emotion playing in her eyes. Pleasure? What was that? Not quite, and I looked down at the clothes self consciously. "Do you not like them?" She asked at once.

"I'd rather see them for myself." I'd not risked a look in the mirror yet, worried ill be disappointed by the corpse-like face staring back at me. Sure, I'd showered and washed away any residue of coagulated blood, but I had no idea what that made me look like. I felt like I was a zombie playing the part of the living, and my body felt sub-par.

That was when there was a knock at the door, and we both turned to find the short girl enter the room. "Hows everything...oh!" A smile crept up on her face, replacing slight fear. "You look much better, Ulquiorra."

I couldn't see Orihime's face, but Rukia was making eye contact with her behind me, and she was containing a grin. "Orihime, what do you think?" I switched my glance to her before I knew what I was doing, and caught her red cheeks and beaming smile. Her eyes were watering, and it puzzled me. "Don't cry, woman."

"I'm not," she rushed, and pushed away the smile, failing.

Rukia saved her. "Have you looked in the mirror yet?"

I shook my head, feeling sick again. The motion felt sluggish. Rukia took my arm, and closed the door to the walk in wardrobe with us inside. She turned me round gently, saying nothing. The room felt braced for something, silent and still as I regarded myself.

The man I saw in the reflection was, needless to say, very different. He looked back at me, seeming to suit the clothes he'd been given, the only piece of colour on him showing beneath his thick black bangs, shiny and free from dirt and remnants of his life as the zombie. I walked closer to the mirror, following my eyes as I went, startled with a hint of recognition. I knew who it was. I knew it was me.

"Well?" Rukia asked gently. I made eye contact with her through the image, but my eyes flew to the face of Orihime. I thanked her silently, and she seemed to response with a dazed look. Rukia nodded. "You look a little different from how I remember you."

"...how so?" I asked, wondering how it was possible that I still had some way to go. I looked alive, what else was there left to change?

She met my eyes again. "You had marks running beneath your eyes, like tears." She laughed dryly. "Pretty ironic, actually."

"What...what do you mean?" Orihime asked in curiosity. I was interested in what Rukia had to say about me, and turned to face both of them. "How was it ironic?"

Her face was like ice, but her eyes switched from the ground to Orihime in concern of saying too much. "You were very cold. Very callous."

"Really." I commented. I didn't find this difficult to believe. My face didn't look very emotive. She nodded. "I guess it was why Aizen gave you the most responsibility of the arrancars; you didn't care. It was a job to you."

"Who was Aizen?"

Orihime, her face now sullen, looked at Rukia. "He was your superior. There was a war between him and the soul reapers."

I remembered I knew what they were, and pushed my brain for more knowledge. I couldn't push through the fog that had settled. "What was I?"

"You were a hollow," Rukia answered. "The enemy of the soul reapers, the things we kill to protect the human world. You were an arrancer, the most intelligent race, closest to soul reapers."

"What did I do?"

She crossed her arms in insecurity. "You were part of the Espada, the 4th strongest."

"What did that mean?" I realised I was throwing questions her way, but I was like a sponge soaking up the knowledge. I didn't care, I wanted to know.

"It meant that you were our enemy. You were the strongest group of hollows. You were very difficult to defeat."

"But you defeated us."

She nodded. The room felt thick and uncomfortable. That was when I noticed a question, seeming to be floating before me.

"How do I know...Orihime?" I had suspicions by the first time we encountered the soul reapers, but now I had a chance to hear the full story. Or at least a fraction.

Rukia met my eyes again for the first time in a few seconds. "You obeyed Aizen's commands."

I looked back to Orihime, who looked too pale. I was so used to the blood rushing to her face, now she just looked sick.

"I think we need to take you to the training ground."

"Why?" Orihime asked. Rukia shrugged, and it appeared that she was passing off the responsiibilty of the full story elsewhere. "So then maybe there'll be enough enforcement around to prevent any fights between you and Ichigo."

Hatred bubbled up at the sound of his name, and intstantly I inched closer to the woman, who, to my surprise, closed the gap between our arms. I thought I sounded like a demon in the short girl's description of me.

"Why do we have to be in the same room?" I quizzed stubbornly. My voice came out clipped and cold, but she didn't look surprised.

"Because you and he have the most history. Haven't you wondered why you hate him so much?" She looked over her shoulder, already facing the door, a small smile on her face. She turned back round to face the door. "This should be fun," she sighed.

...

For some reason, I found myself holding Ulquiorra's hand as we descended the steps into the large desert. I scanned the huge grounds, recoiling at the appearance of the sky meeting the horizon. It was impossible! As we continued, I was increasingly thankful for Ulquiorra's earlier appearance to save me. Man there were a lot of steps.

Finally we reached the bottom, and numerous figures dotted the horizon, some far away and some within perhaps a few feet, sat and observing as they took a break. The bald man with strange eye make up was lying down, but craned his head to see us and instantly propped himself up to his feet. "Lietenant! I was just taking a break."

"Give it a rest, Ikkaku. Where's Ichigo?"

The man grunted grumpily. "Squished up a wall like a fly for all I care-"

"He beat you," another voice said, and another man appeared. Yumichika, the man with very feminine features. "get over it, already." He leaned against the nearest bolder with smug satisfaction. "Instead of lounging around and catching a tan on that dome of yours you can join me for a little sparring."

Ikkaku drew his weapon, and a force seemed to surround him, aiming it straight at the man. Rukia had lost her patience.

"Will someone PLEASE TELL ME WHERE TO FIND ICHIGO!"

They paused, and pointed into the distance with shaking hands. "H-he's th-that way."

I stared in awe at Rukia, my new friend, her short frame hiding a very scary person indeed. She sighed heavily and sharply. "Thank you."

We walked in the direction we'd been given, and I felt nervous. I had a sneaking suspicion that Ulquiorra was too a little nervous, but he hid it well. His face was a cold mask in contrast with the warm hand holding mine.

It took a good few minutes to find him, but it appeared that Rukia detected him first. "Man, he sure needed his space."

A crash, and a huge dark mass erupted from a spot in the distance, which was met with a equally large, light pink glow. It dispersed and consumed the mass, but the small black spot shot up, and disappeared. The roaring filled my ears, and Ulquiorra tightened his grip on my fingers.

"What is it?" I looked to him for the thousandth time, and he just shook his head minutely.

"Ichigo!" Rukia called, and the fight stopped as the pink glow disappeared abruptly. Captain Kuchiki appeared before us in a flash. "Rukia. Ichigo is training, it would not be best to interrupt him at this time."

"I'm sorry, brother, but this is important."

As I looked between the siblings, it occurred to me how similar they looked. It was almost possible to imagine the captain smiling if you pictured Rukia's expressive face.

"Please, just try and persuade him."

Byakuya hesitated. "I do not think it wise for him to be around," presumably meaning Ulquiorra. At least he wasn't 'it', which seemed to be the sentiment.

"Ulquiorra is the reason we need to see Ichigo, sir," I chimed in. "Rukia said that Ichigo has the most history with him, and so will be able to tell him the most about his life."

"Can that not wait?"

I grabbed his hand tighter. "No, sir," I said defiantly. Byakuya hesitated again. "Very well." He turned on his step, and walked in a slow stride so we could keep up.

"Well done, Orihime," Rukia whispered next to me. She seemed surprised, but not offended, by how her brother listened to me over her. She must be used to his stubbornness.


	17. Chapter 17

Rukia's voice didn't register straight away; I was in the moment, too distracted and too wired to comprehend much passed the blade, the power surging through my arms to the point of pain. Even Byakuya couldn't handle it.

Maybe that was because of Rukia getting so close. Man, she could protect herself, she didn't need her tight ass brother hanging around any time she got too close.

"Ichigo! For crying out loud get your head outa your ass!" I heard her cry, and instantly looked to my left, dropping my zanpakto in surprise. Her face was red with all the shouting; she was edging into supersonic now. It was making my ears bleed. "If you don't shut up no one will be able to hear you with all the eardrums you're bursting!"

Looking passed her, two familiar figures appeared to be following her, a flash of orange hair next to raven black. I felt sick into silence immediately. I watched as they drew near, the dwarf finally pleased that I was now paying attention. The closer they got, the more concern grew on the girl's faces. Ulquiorra never looked much beyond mildly unsatisfied. Did that apply now? His lack of emotions?

Of course it did, trash like him never change. I felt myself grow cold as the little voice warned, like my own whispering back to me.

"Man, you really like your alone time lately, Ichigo."

I shrugged at the little lieutenant's comment. "Its difficult sometimes." I purposefully made eye contact with the bright green objects, staring me down with something like displeasure. Good, he knew where he stood. I just didn't want him to speak, so I was thankful when Orihime made a couple of unconfident noises, like the ones she usually did when she was about to talk in front of the group.

"Erm, Ichigo," she mustered, and I cringed inwardly at the unfamiliarity of the address. "I erm...Ulquiorra, he'd like to know..."

"He'd like to know more about his past, the one you knew."

I kept my grip on the formally discarded blade, now securely in my hand. I felt the air pressure shift.

"Why doesn't he ask me himself?" I quizzed, switching my eyes between Rukia and Ulquiorra.

He sighed slightly in derision. "Would that change anything?" I heard that old clipped coldness in his voice, unnerving to others but me; I defeated him, he begged me to kill him. I wondered if he knew that much yet.

I realised the girls were watching me with anxiety, and that I hadn't answered his question. I still didn't answer.

"Ichigo," Orihime began, avoiding my eyes to keep her own on him, "Ulquiorra is different now. What ever he was, he's not now. He's not a- a hollow...he's not."

My eyes widened, and I looked to Rukia for explanation. "They know some of the story. Only parts I know. Which are scarce. Trust me, Ichigo, I think...I think he is truly different now."

"You say hes not a hollow. How do you know for sure?"

The grey orbs targeted at me narrowed in a very uncharacteristic way. "How do we know? Look at him! Listen to him. Talk to him."

"Orihime, you only know him as one of those things. I knew him before that; you've only seen improvement from a corpse. To me, he's no different. Just the same asshole as when I first met him; just refreshed. Did Rukia tell you what he looked like before?"

"She didn't have to."

"But can you remember him?"

As we argued, I felt my grip tighten on the hilt, the sickness growing with each blind defence she threw. I couldn't let myself wonder why she battled for him so passionately. I angered myself until the only noise I could hear was the tiny explosions crashing between my ears.

"Ichigo, breathe. Calm down," a soft voice instructed, and a small cold hand rested on my fist. Slowly, I followed, and I fell back into silence. I found Rukia's slate grey eyes, and nodded.

"Right, Orihime. Go."

Her eyes flew up. "What?" She asked dumbly.

...

"Ichigo asked you a question." Rukia said. Suddenly she'd taken the role of peacekeeper. I recalled Ichigo's question, but I didn't want to answer. I had images in my head of how he appeared in the dream, but I didn't want to get it wrong. I had a vivid imagination, afterall.

"Erm..."

"So the answers no, then," the orange haired idiot clipped. I scowled at him immediately. "You're trying to frighten me into thinking he was and is a monster, but to my knowledge the only monster right now is struggling to not strike one of us with that thing."

He snapped his eyes down to his hand, now slightly looser than it was, so the hand print was visible. He looked back up, his eyes small and angry with hurt. "You want to know my part?"

I nodded, but by the look in his eyes I didn't want to hear what his part was.

He came closer to us, and Ulquiorra edged ever so slightly over the arm he was brushing, protecting me from the time bomb. Ichigo's voice was dark and low and ever so quiet.

"He kidnapped you. He convinced you that your friends, that's us, would pay the price if you didn't follow. I went to Heuco Mundo to retrieve you, saved you, died for you, came back to life. For you. That's what kind of monster I am."

With that, he flashed from sight, leaving just a swirling cyclone of dust in the centre of the makeshift triangle we'd formed. I focused on it, utterly confused. My head felt light and heavy at once, and that sensation drew on all my focus. My legs went limp, and I couldn't do a thing.


	18. Chapter 18

When I came to, I was in a plain room, with familiar off white walls, feeling the soft floor beneath me and the warmth around me. Mine and Rukia's room, and I was somehow in my bed.

I pushed myself up, and instantly winced. "Oooww..." I squirmed, pushing my palm to my head in an effort to stop it from opening. I felt a warm hand on my forearm. "Not yet." Somehow I knew what the words meant, and I followed by lying back down, and instead turned my head, finding Ulquiorra.

"w-what happened?"

"You collapsed."

"Oh." I allowed my eyes to wonder to the other side of the room, when I found night-time filling the window. "How long have I been out?"

"A few hours."

I frowned, and concern bubbled up in me. I found his eyes again, staring at the floor next to my hand, and pushed myself back up. "Ulquiorra? Whats wrong?"

By force he returned his gaze back to me. "I don't understand." That meant he did. I understood full well, but he wasn't that kind of person. If he suffered, it would be the silent, lock doors, shut blinds, sensationless kind of suffering. So that meant I either had to drag him kicking and screaming, or assume. I could take a guess.

"It's about what Ichigo said."

He maintained eye contact, but the pupils tightened to pin points at his name, and he looked almost too stoic. A flash of recognition hit me, but soon passed. "Not entirely."

"What else?"

He began searching with his eyes, as though everywhere but me had the answers. "It was true. What he told you."

"Huh?"

"And I think you know that. You know that as much as you know what I looked like, but something so trivial is not important to me."

I changed my position so I was sat on my knees, wrapping my blanket around myself to hide the goose pimples. "What is important to you then?"

At last, he met my eyes. "That I didn't hurt you."

As soon as he said it, I was arguing. "No! I don't believe that for a second-"

"That's blind defence."

"Do you think you hurt me?"

He snapped his eyes away. "I was...something else...back then. I don't know what I was capable of. But...sometimes...I get images, flashes. I say something or think something, and I feel like...im getting a hint from my subconscious."

We sat in silence for a moment, letting that and everything else sink in. I switched my eyes to his hand, resting on his knee, and thought of the image of that very hand dispersing in front of my face. I wanted to hold it, for the thousandth time, just for reassurance.

"Ulqui...ora?"

I heard a "hmm", but I didn't look up. "Can I tell you about a...dream...I keep having?" I found his eyes, his directed to their previous focal point. He continued staring, sadness in his eyes. Guilt.

"I keep dreaming that you...and I...are in, like a desert. Youre standing there...and I know its you, but you look different. Like...a demon. But your eyes...theyre exactly the same...and they look like they do now. You hold out your hand...and I try to grab it." I stop when I notice my voice getting shaky, and I return my gaze to his hand.

"It disappears like dust, and you go with it."

In a final attempt to meet his eyes, I nervously looked up. He was watching with intent. He didn't move, blink, flinch, or even move for breath. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs, much like the dream, sadness and something else...something unreadable. I felt myself falling trying to find that unidentified emotion, and tightened my blanket around my arms and torso.

"We should sleep."

He nodded, swallowing his words and recollecting himself. "I'll go find-"

"No, erm..." I shifted across on the floor mattress. "Can you...stay with me?" I felt myself blush, despite the innocent ignorance in his eyes. After a few moments consideration, he finally unravelled and moved to lay next to me, a couple of inches between our arms. I pulled the blanket out beneath me and covered the pair of us. "Thank you."

...

Sure, it was slightly awkward. Awkward as in, cramped. But, in actuality, it felt comforting. I could even convince myself I could feel the veil of sleep drift over me, pretend I was real. I felt as though any surface would be suffice to sleep upon, because the aches and pains in my joints finally eased with a satisfying, dull sensation. They felt slightly numb, but not disconcertingly so.

Outside, like a distant thought, creaks and slight thuds sounded by the door, and my thought was that the room was suddenly black...

I awoke with a jerk, eyes slamming open to the pitch black room. I thought only minutes had gone by, until I heard the slow, uneven breathing of the girl next to me. She was fast asleep, curled next to my arm and her legs on the solid flooring next to her. She looked happy enough, so I didn't bother her. Instead, I remained laying there, recounting back to the series of images that had gone through my head in the impossibly short amount of time that had passed. They felt like more intense, more detailed versions of the feelings that washed over me at random points, like tiny bites of realisation that teased me with one sniff, and then whipped away before I could establish what it was. But these bites were not delicious, or even pleasant. They were foreign, gory, ghoulish and furious, often empty, lonely, destructive. Flashes of fire in artificial deserts, vast battles, immense power...contrasting with moments of agony uncharacteristic for one to bare, a hole in the chest, literally and metaphorically. A demon, incapable of anything but negative emotion and turmoil. Instead of cringing at the ideas, I simply lay to let the cold truth wash over me with shards of ice for waves. That was me, and the 'me' now was dreaming.

Dreaming...had I done that when I was a hollow?

Was I still...a hollow?

I waited, wondering if my subconscious would offer me anything more, and when I waited long enough I shifted my head to take one look at the woman. I wanted to move the hair from covering her features, but that would've woken her. Gently, I shifted from the bed, and stood, making my quiet way from the room in the dark.

In the hallway, I found the bespectacled man, just making his way into a room, a belt in his hand with numerous unidentified items lining it. He noticed me, but didn't look startled. He didn't smile, but he didn't frown, attack, or recoil. He simply nodded.

"Ulquiorra." He did, however, spare me a look up and down. I took a disinterested glance down, my clothes still neat and standing like a normal human. Perhaps a little straighter.

"Could you direct me to the owner of this place?"

Regarding me with an arched eyebrow peaked over his glasses, he said, "Training."

I inwardly recoiled. "Very well."

I began making my way down the hall, when a pale arm blocked my path.

"Ichigo is with him. I wouldn't if I were you."

I turned my stare onto him. "Why should his presence affect me?"

He lowered his hand, and turned only to be slightly angled towards me. "For Orihime's sake."

"It seems to me that you tend to unnecessarily try to shield her."

He gave a very dry, very humourless smirk. "Not unnecessarily. You are aware of that."

I held my gaze, but with great difficulty. I wouldn't let him win, but I knew there was some truth to his words. They had a reason to be protective, and I was wearing that reason's face.

"You want to know If you're still hollow, right?"

I squinted my eyes in suspicion.

"Rukia informed me. I am more attuned to types of rietsu than some, Kurosaki in particular."

Instead of pushing for more of the story I was not interested in, I waited for the answer. Something about this person told me he wasn't one for idle details either.

"Contrary to what Ichigo claimed, you're not hollow. I," he speculated, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, "am not quite sure what you are at present."

With that he left me alone in the hall, pushing his way into the room behind the door. I stood, like I was waiting for something. Relief. Anything to replace the ever-growing hollow hole in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't go back in there, not yet. As the Ichigo trash had correctly observed, it was difficult to find a place to be alone.

I chose to swallow my pride, and took a few slow, cautious steps, and found my way to the room in which was the entrance to the training grounds. The only time before this that i'd found it on my own, I was catching the woman from certain death, milliseconds after she'd placed me in her room to warm up. How i'd moved so fast in such a dead weight of a body was beyond me; how I knew what was happening was an answer as far away as my humanity felt. I located the button, and waited for the steps to fully appear.

The grounds seemed to forever be basked in bright day light, a dash of cloud adding realism and eliminating the chance of sun blindness while training. It seemed logical enough.

At the end of the steps sat a man, long white hair blending in with his white coat, much like the captain who'd saved me. He was leaning his elbows upon his knees, admiring the battle scenes ahead.

"I'm looking to find the owner," I said. The man looked around, his brown eyes tired and kindly. "Ah, the elusive Ulquiorra. I'm afraid I haven't seen Kisuke for a few minutes. Perhaps he's tending to something elsewhere."

What a helpful person, I retorted mentally.

"Very well."

I turned to make my way back up the steps, noting how exhausting they looked when one looked up, when I sensed eyes on the back of my head. I turned ever so slightly, just to see the orange haired idiot through strands of my own hair. He was stood with purpose, but neither of his hands were poised on the hilt of his weapon. Still, I didn't trust him. I stared him out, waiting.

For some reason, I didn't feel the need to repeat what his friend had said to me, about my not being a hollow. I felt that he knew, but that didn't bother me. It felt like an empty come back, like, 'I told you so".

"Ichigo," the captain between us said, "I do not want any trouble here."

"Its fine, Captain Ukitake," he said. He connected his eyes to mine again. "I see you're not hiding behind Orihime this time."

"It's not for her sake that I'm here," I said, feeling the intense darkness of my voice. "Nor is it your business."

His eyebrows lowered over his brown eyes. "Why are you here then?" He asked, but it felt more like a message. _You have no business being here, _as it translated.

I turned on my step, and held my chin higher, looking down upon the trash. It felt familiar, particularly as my hands found their ways onto my pockets. I sent him a sharp look, which only made his eyes colder and angrier. "You may have defeated me once, Ichigo. It appears to have provided you with a hero complex." I took a few steps down, closer to him, able to see each wrinkle around his eyes. "Trust me when I tell you that you will not defeat me again."

"Arrogant as ever," he forced through his teeth. Instead of trying to provoke him further, I turned on my heal and retraced my steps.

"What's changed?" he asked, shouting. Again, I stopped, and again, I looked behind and down at him. "What has changed to make you think I cant defeat you again?"

I answered instantly. "My reasons for fighting."

"And what are they?"

I hesitated. Why should I tell this boy?

_Because he had the same reason, once before. _

I nodded inwardly at the voice. "The woman. I fight for the woman."

I didn't see his reaction, because I didn't care for it. The words i'd just uttered echoed and bounced back to me as though celebrating my own realisation. It made me tempted to smile, and it made me a little more alert, making my way from the grounds faster. I barely noticed I was back to her room until I was opening the door, back to the pitch black comfort of our pocket world.


	19. Chapter 19

ulquiorra realises he fights for the woman, and inwardly vows to stay with her for her sake. he wonders what he is, and says he will wait it out until he stops being in the middle of the scale. Orihime is showing signs of progress with her memory, and throws into conversation random memories from the past, like her poor cooking skills and events from the past. Urahara speculates that the missing piece is her powers, and so offers to help her retrieve them. She and Ulquiorra become closer, but, having found common ground with ichigo, becomes more civil with him. He stumbles upon the trap door in the shop, and finds his old friend, M, down there, suffering from the vast spiritual pressure, showing signs that he is becoming human again. He accuses Urahara and whoever knew about him of inhumanity, and finally releases his powers, much like Ichigo's inner hollow. Ichigo feeling like he's been proved right fights Ulquiorra, when Orihime in desperation throws a shield between them. Ichigo wants to continue the fight, but Orihime confesses she loves Ulquiorra and to hurt him would be to hurt her. In a scene much like his death, his mask cracks, and his eyes return to normal. They hold hands and kiss, and he becomes human

The final scene sees the captains and lietenants defeating the last of the zombies who've gone too far to be saved, while


	20. Chapter 20

The morning after our talk, Ulquiorra and I once again ventured down to the training grounds, and I officially met each of the captains and their subordinates. Each acted as though they knew me well, the pretty one treating me with a little envy, his bald best friend with a lot of interest. Ulquiorra kept close during that particular, slightly lacking, conversation. The big tall one was terrifying, until a little pink head and giant eyes popped up from his back. "Jiggles!" she cried, and that triggered yet another memory. They were all so random, what seemed familiar and what didn't.

To my surprise, Ichigo, instead of being in a far off place training, joined the party of perhaps 20 people or more. I constantly checked the nature of the eye contact, if any, between the brown and vivid greens, and, to my amazement, it seemed to have lost most of its animosity. Ichigo was quiet, but in a way that seemed...guilty. The kind of look a puppy gives when he's done something wrong, and doesn't want to admit it.

Later that morning, having left and trusted Ulquiorra to talk with Urahara, who called him over personally, I caught up with Rukia, who was talking with her elder brother. Honestly, the man never smiled. Not even with his own family.

Seeing me approaching, her brother uttered a couple of words, and dashed away in that irritating manner. Rukia turned, and smiled kindly. "Hey, Orihime. How is he getting along?"

"He's okay," I said, shrugging. "He's with Urahara."

The little girl nodded. "Its weird seeing you without him," she observed, a little knowing look in her eyes. I blushed at the implication behind her eyes.

"Shut up," I said, pathetically, because I began grinning uncontrollably. This was why I liked her so much; she didn't judge, she knew the whole story, maybe more than me, and she still spoke of Ulquiorra and me like two friends with obvious feelings for each other. Not like two very different people of two very different kinds, on opposite ends of the spectrum, once enemies. Not like he was dead, and I was alive.

She was grinning too, but didn't push it further. "So, what's up?"

"Erm, actually I just wanted to ask you about Ichigo; you seem the closest to him here."

She stared for a couple of breathes, and shrugged with slightly forced flippancy. "Actually, up until a couple of weeks ago, we hadn't seen each other for about a year." Her voice didn't match her expression. "He's...quite different from when I last knew him."

"How so?"

"Oh, hes always been arrogant with a natural hero complex, childish, brash, opinionated. But when I came back, its as though..."

I decided to push, it seemed likely that she'd not spoken about this to anyone. "Did something happen? While you were away?"

She looked away, down behind, and tears brimmed in her eyes. "He lost his sister. I think, instead of grieving out of lost, he's grieved out of guilt; that damn hero complex. Its useless when you've lost your powers. Its why he came back; hes trying to find her. Now he's a soul reaper, he can go back to the soul society."

"So, why hasn't he?"

She gave me a fast, sharp look. "Why do you think he's been so short with you? Sure its partly because of Ulquiorra; but he's also logical to a fault. He's prioritised this place; Captain Hitsuguya has taken the responsibility of finding Karin."

I let that sink in; maybe I had severely misjudged Ichigo. I mean, I never hated him, or even disliked him as a person. I just...disliked some aspects. I felt the guilt follow, and hoped i'd not given him such a hard time.

"Rukia, do you think that Ichigo and Ulquiorra might ever get along?"

I didn't expect a straight yes or a maybe, but I didn't want it to be a 'no'. Apparently, Ichigo and I were close enough for him to risk his own life to save me, and I thought that maybe I might help him in return. But now I had Ulquiorra, and I wanted him close, too. Rukia was giving this some thought.

She shook her head, but it was slow and uncertain enough to allow a niggling of hope to seep through. I wanted so much for him to fit in neatly, and Ichigo seemed to be the odd one out in the puzzle. They worked against each other like magnets.

"Hmm," I thought outloud.

"I saw some improvement today though," she offered, "that he didn't try to kill him."

I giggled lightheartedly, looking down at my shoes and the dusty ground beneath them. "Yeah, I guess that's a start."

...

_The podiums stood grey and flawless, like stages for a show that no one but the actors were meant to see. But this one was meant to be seen. Just by me. And it was meant to hurt. I was intended to feel crippling agony._

_Ichigo's orange head stuck out at the only colour of the scene, a large clawed hand gripped around his neck, scruffy and bruised from the battles he'd endured. But not for one second did I believe they were entirely for me._

_I couldn't hear what the demonic man above was saying, but it was a taunt so strong, I felt the breathy, ghost like intent smother me, wrap around me like a snake. _

_No, not Ichigo...don't...don't kill...Ichigo..._

_A huge burst of light so bright, I could only tell the colour of green in the after image. By then it was too late; I felt it, I felt the change of sound, the feel of the air, of the scent. Ichigo fell limp to the ground, and it wasn't acting. Least of all was Ulquiorra. _

_I felt a voice rip from my lungs, so strong, but I didn't care if it bled. A limp sac of something plummeted to the ground before me, and crashed, leaving behind a cloud, concealing him from view._

_I ran. I raced until my chest was sore from the sharp cold heaving in and out. "Ichigo!"_

_I threw out my powers to heal him, and almost crashed into and shattered the veil i'd created. I pushed and forced all I had into it the best I could. It wasn't enough. _

_I tried, and I tried, until seconds fell into the longest minutes of my life. I shattered, and the bright pane of light followed me._

_I shouted. I shouted the first thing that filled my thoughts. _

_Ichigo._

_I repeated his name, over and over and over, but his eyes stayed wide and brown and blank. Nothing happened. I called harder, as though my voice was going somewhere._

_A crushing force threw me, and brought me out. A flash of bright, dark orange flew up, and a body rose before me. Ichigo no longer lay there...but the body standing over me, it wasn't him. _

...

The following morning, the woman was absent. I awoke, apparently having made sleep a frequent activity, to a feeling of coldness where she should have been. Unsettlement over came me. I instantly shot into sitting, and all but ran from the room.

"Ishida. Could you tell me where the woman is?" I asked just as the man in question exited his room, his eyes heavy with the early morning rise. He jumped, ever so slightly, at the sound of my voice. "Ulquiorra. You're up early."

I shook my head. "I've overslept."

He frowned, and altered the formation of the stack of books in his hands, staring at me in an effort to appear absent minded. "Hardly. It's 5 30."

I was about to argue, before questioning myself; why would he lie? That's foolish. Instead, I closed my eyes, thinking.

"Orihime has gone; could you point me to her?"

He shook his head in reply, still staring. "Have you ... have you tried the training grounds? That's probably where Rukia is."

I slid my hands in my black pants pockets, and nodded in thanks, maintaining my calm. Of course, she was in no danger, and therefore I could not justify my concern. I rounded the corner, through the hallway, in a slow pace to accommodate my thoughtful mood. My head felt heavy with it, too much stacking up and piling. Nothingness, neurotic nonsense. Flashes of the previous night's dreams. The emptiness in my stomach. The itch at the base of my throat.

I found myself in the irritatingly familiar dining room, pushed the button in routine nonchalance, stepped down the steps in a systematic way. My eyes scanned for the familiar orange head, but she wasn't far; she was next to the man as irritating as his traps and his house of riddles. Both were sat at the bottom of the steps, the woman making a sound I wasn't particularly fond of, nor unfamiliar with.

"Orihime?"

The girl jumped, hiccupped, and turned. Her wide, sore, wet eyes grew. I hated the look she gave me; it didn't make me angry, as such, but I didn't like it. It was a ghost of the one she gave that thing we encountered back in the town; the tall man. Thinking about it, I felt a stab of memory with him.

"Ul-Ulquiorra," she wimpered as she frantically wiped her eyes, which was useless, because new ones formed and fell as quick as the last. "Erm, we need to talk. Quick." She stood, taking my hand, and practically dragged me by my hand up the steps. "Orihime, what-"

She didn't listen. She kept running.

She pushed me into one of the bathrooms, next door to our shared bedroom, closed the door, and turned to see me again for the first time in 2 minutes. She sighed, her chest shaking. Was that the crying?

"Ulquiorra..." She whispered, drawing closer to me. Her eyes were frightened and sad. "Turn around."

I obeyed, keeping my eyes on her for a fraction of a moment, worry building up, like earlier. But now, I was certain something was wrong. I almost didn't look, I almost refused. But I had to know.

I turned my head, only to meet my own eyes in the mirror. The green in the irises was forever becoming more vivid, but that wasn't the only change.

I traced a pale finger down the left tear mark, dripping a perfect line from my eye. It was faded slightly. "What is it?" I said flatly. I didn't want to look into her eyes, weary of what I would see in them. I simply looked into my eyes closer, only to find the odd shape of my pupil; long and thin.

"You're...I think...I think you're...reverting."

"Not exactly."

We both turned to the new voice, leaning on the frame of the open doorway. Ishida.

"Uryu," Orihime observed. He nodded.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly',?"

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps we should speak with Urahara. And Ichigo."

"What does he have to do with what's happening hear?" Orihime quizzed, though her voice was softer than when she usually spoke of that man. She asked as though the Ishida genuinely had the answer. I knew that he did, by instinct.

"Because he may have gone through a similar process." He stared between us for a moment, before withdrawing from the room. We hesitated for a moment, avoiding eachother's eyes, and chose to follow him.


	21. Chapter 21

The atmosphere was awkward, too awkward to meet any eyes. I wanted so much to look at Ulquiorra, the reason for the meeting, but I wanted to see the old Ulquiorra; not the eyes of the man I now knew had intended to kill Ichigo, just to hurt me. I still, however, wanted to hold his hand.

It was Urahara who spoke first. "So, strange things are afoot, it would appear-"

"Please," Captain Kuchiki said, "do not attempt to make light of the situation, Kisuke." Apparently this man deserved a place in the discussion, and, although I was thankful for his words against the shop keeper, I couldn't help but notice that it felt now more like a court hearing. Again, I resisted the urge to take Ulquiorra's hand.

The man lowered his hat over his eyes. I couldn't help but notice the way he abided by the captain; respectful, but not as though obedient. "Very well. Uryu, you called the meeting. Please, speak."

All eyes went to the bispecticaled man, sat very straight behind the coffee table. "Fine. I requested this meeting on the behalf of Ulquiorra."

"Yes, we are aware of that," Ichigo growled. It was the first time he'd made his presence known, and he was sat like an angry child. Byakuya cleared his throat. "Ichigo Kurosaki, you of _all _people should empathise with this person's situation."

Ichigo opened his mouth as though to say something, before resuming his previous scowl. "I am far from like him."

"You know that's not true," Uryu replied, tugging the attention back to him. Everyone resumed there silence, and he nodded in thanks for the room to speak. "I have been keeping an eye on the activity of Ulquiorra's spiritual pressure since his arrival, and have noted some shifts. Some of it, is indeed, human, and this part often dominates the other part, which, Ichigo, is why you are here. I trust you remember your constant battle with your inner hollow?"

I looked to Ichigo instantly, stunned, before the memory of my dream came back. Could it be that that monster...was really him?

"And that brings us neatly to Orihime. Care to recount your dream, one more time?"

I shifted under the many eyes on me, and stared down at my knot of fingers. "Erm..." I dared a look at Ulquiorra, then Ichigo, then Ulquiorra, before going back to my lap. "I dreamt that Ulquiorra, was holding Ichigo...at the top of a podium. He killed him, I think, and I tried to heal him. I gave up, and he came back...but different."

"That was the hollow in him; you see, Ichigo, up until a few months ago, was what is known as a vizard; a soul reaper who has aspects of hollow. Similar to the arrancar, who are hollow with aspects of soul reaper. Do you follow?"

I nodded, again looking back to Ulquiorra for confirmation that he was following, too.

He murmered, "Yes." It was murmered in a way that made me think he knew more than he wanted too, paired with the eyes, distantly staring down at the table momentarily. They snapped back up instantly. "Are you saying, since I was a hollow before, I could become hollow again?"

Instead of answering his question straight away, Urahara mulled the words over behind his shadow. "You could say that."

"How else would you say it?" Ichigo observed. "Look at him. How can you say any different?"

Ichigo's face was red with anger, but his eyes held something close to smugness. I felt sick with the anger I felt towards him, but I knew that, when I looked at the ex-espada next to me, a ghost of truth would stab me in the chest like ice. Instead, I closed my eyes, the lids a similar orange hue to the shield I formed over ichigo in the dream. Somehow, I was so aware of its healing qualities, and I was so sure that, in this strange world id found myself in, it was real. I felt the dormancy of it in the back of my mind. I focused on it as the insults flew between numerous voices, not one of them Ulquiorra's reserved tone.

Suddenly I was speaking. "How do I get my powers back?"

I found the rest of the group silent when my eyes drifted back open, and white noise rang in my ears at the sudden change. Ichigo looked like his tongue had suddenly escaped his mouth, Uryu frowning, Urahara staring with an eyebrow arched. "Your power?"

I nodded. "Yes. The power in my dream. I healed Ichigo, or at least tried to. You said it yourself, I have powers. I know about the shield, and in order to use them I..." My hands flew to pat down the sides of my head. "Something's missing," I whispered beneath my breath.

"Orihime..." Uryu gasped in dull surprise. "You remember?"

I looked up at him, abashed. "More than I thought." I looked to the boy next to me; he looked apologetic. The streams pouring from his eyes looked like they could be real tears, but no watery soreness was brimming.

I whispered, "Ulquiorra?"

"He remembers too. More than he would like." The boy in question nodded. "Dreams," the owner of the voice, Urahara, added.

He nodded again. I watched in amazement.

Byakuya cleared his throat. "If I may." His eyes closed as he crossed a thoughtful index finger over the straight line of his mouth, frowning gracefully. "It would appear to me that, being in such close proximity to the girl has triggered a healing process. it seems that when she dreams, he dreams. Perhaps this is the key to both memories, and her powers."

A shadow formed in the doorframe, and we all turned to see Yoruichi, grinning in a way that her cat-like fangs poked into her bottom lip. "I think we've found this year's Captain Obvious!" She shook her hands in fists as a form of sarcastic celebration. "You never fail to disappoint, Byakuya." The woman came up behind him and patted his head. I watched, stunned and frightened for the woman's daring hand.

The captain's eye twitched very noticeably, yet he did nothing more. "I would appreciate the removal of your hand, and your less than helpful comments in a serious situation, Miss Shihoin." I had to admire his control. I looked up and smiled at the woman, who winked, removed her hand, and nudged in between Ichigo and Byakuya. She squeezed her legs up to her and crossed them, looking crushed. "Give a cat some room, guys!"

Everyone waited in tense silence as Ichigo, red faced, moved up to give her space. "Aaah, that's better."

Urahara regarded her with a teasing smile. "Ready?"

"Shoot away, Kisuke." She grinned, and then switched to serious mode with surprising ease. "No need to bring me up to date."


	22. Chapter 22

The discussion continued into the topic of Vizards, and my involvement with them. Of course, this lead to the conversation of how I came to become one, how it would frequently pop into being and take over, and how I harnessed it and used it to my advantage. As the voices flew across, talking of my experiences fluently, I felt no need to provide input. Urahara was present when it began, Byakuya was on the receiving end of it's power, and Rukia and Ishida witnessed the trials I went through just to train hard enough against it. Ulquiorra took it in, Orihime listened and never looked at me once, but her eyes became clear every so often, as though the cloud was lifting for something to come forward. As I listened periodically, I felt ashamed. I felt ashamed, because I was no different. Of course, i'd controlled it before it caused any real damage; but what if I hadn't? What if I didn't become strong enough? With all these people around me, being who they were and as persistent as they were, how would i have coped without them? How would i have beat it without them?

Would Ulquiorra have been the same, with them, instead of without?

Of course, he was created in a world of violence and terror...he knew no different. Even when i tried to justify my anger and hatred for him, i felt the stab of guilt. It was like i was the lucky one, and now...i felt like a spoilt child. A spoilt child throwing his expensive toy at a homeless kid on the side of the street.

"Ichigo."

I shook my head, pushing them away, but i couldn't escape the guilt. The kind that made me want to hide into myself.

"Ichigo?"

I looked around to Uryu, a blank wide eyed stare. He watched me doubtfully, questioning me with his dark blue eyes. Despite his faults, and the long amount of time we'd gone without seeing each other, i still appreciated his friendship, the way he patronised me and how i wanted to strangle him one minute, the next defend him against a hollow he had no trouble defeating. I missed the brotherly way he knew if something was wrong, and have enough self reservation to not push for revelations.

I looked past him, to Orihime, who was watching curiously, pityingly. I was so used to everyone else giving her that look, it seemed as though it suited her face, her doe eyes.

Byakuya cleared his throat. "Ichigo Kurosaki, this meeting requires your first hand knowledge."

i looked across Yoruichi to Byakuya, still with his eyes closed in a thoughtful manner. Even he had helped, in his own way, and still, the respect i felt for him barely stretched over his status as a royal captain. Or so i thought. He had come through, become an ally and fought for his sister, his pride, and that i could only admire, and envy. He, at times when he needed it, had a power. Now, it was too late. The best i could hope for now was that Karin was in her own brand of happiness in the soul society. Again, the guilt washed over me. Containing me in the selfish little bubble i'd allowed to grow around me in the last few months.

I found Urahara's eyes, and nodded. "Yes?"

He blinked in surprise that I'd spoke, and laughed away the awkwardness. "You've decided to join us, Ichigo! We were just asking about how you felt at times, during your stuggles with your hollow."

He made it sound so much like a pet, i almost laughed. An unknown thought pattern lead me to imagine a small dog wearing a hollow mask with similar patterns mine had, and i allowed a smirk.

"I felt... unstable, sometimes paranoid, sometimes weak. I maybe forgot how much i needed and relied on those around me who helped me through it, helped me beat it..._him. _When i was weakened, it took over, and i usually let it, when i was too weak for my own powers to be effective. It was everything that i wasn't in those times...and at those times, something i needed to be."

Without my voice, the room was still. Each of the eyes around me had their own emotions. Thoughtfulness, intrigue, pride, interest, gratitude, sorrow.

"Is that...the same for you?" I aimed my question toward the former 4th espada. The ironic tears permanently on his face used to feel like a taunt to humanity. Now, they looked like an inner monster taunting the vessel, Ulquiorra.

Instead of nodding simply, like i knew he wouldn't, he met my eyes. "My emotions are not so intricately woven into my relationships with others. I feel weak, i feel...unstable. But you had the comfort of others to keep you grounded."

Of course, he was smart. That was an understatement; he read others like a book. And that meant he would see the situation as clearly as i could. He knew his situation; how it was and how it is. But now, things were different.

I stood, hoping to signal the end of the meeting. "As do you, now."

I wished Rukia was present then, and i couldn't understand why. I felt a slight sense of pride, and a strong sense of something shifting. Moving itself into the right place.

Orihime smiled and grasped Ulquiorra's hand in promise and knowledge of my acceptance. I knew why; i was that missing piece.

Urahara stood and tapped his hat up. He matched my height, his eyes meeting mine. They said, _welcome back._


End file.
